


When Time Stood Still - Creepypasta (Soulmate AU)

by StrawberryMacaron



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryMacaron/pseuds/StrawberryMacaron
Summary: (on hiatus, going through minor edits) When people are born, they have a countdown on their wrist. This countdown is a timer to the day that you have your first interaction with your soulmate. Some people meet their soulmate at a very young age, others meet soon before death, and some (though very rare) have countdowns that spontaneously stop. In three days, you will be meeting your soulmate. However, the soulmate system only promises that you and your soulmate will fall deeply in love with each other. It doesn't mean your soulmate is a good person, it doesn't mean that your soulmate is a kind soul. That's exactly what you find out when you meet your soulmate. You soon discover that they are a ruthless murderer.
Relationships: Hoody (Creepypasta)/Reader, Masky (Creepypasta)/Reader, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers|Ticci Toby/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	1. Prologue

It was late November and the weather had finally stabilized at a chilly temperature. It would only get colder from here, but I finally didn’t have to worry about drastic changes throughout my week. I would no longer have to bring a jacket for the first 2 or 3 hours of my day, to just carry it in my hands until I got home (or to my car). I could now sit wrapped up in a thick blanket with a cup of tea and look out the window at the first snowfall of this year’s season.

Today I was sitting inside, looking out of a large bay window. Underneath me were large, padded cushions that my parents had added in not too long ago, and in my hands resided a steaming mug of green tea. It was a Tuesday morning and school was canceled due to black ice that had settled on the town’s roads. It was the county’s attempt at preventing as many accidents as they could, but parents still had work to do, and people still had places to be.

I took small sips from the cup in my hands and stared at tiny flurries of snow, making their way to the ground. The day was truly picture perfect to me: grey clouds covering the sky, white rooftops and trees, and the neighborhood-lively with young children outside and teenagers sleeping in as long as they could. It was cozy.

It was about 9:00 am when I decided to leave my gazing spot at the window. My parents had been gone for nearly 3 hours already for another day at work. I had the house to myself. It wasn’t uncommon for me to make my own dinner some nights, or spend the day alone when I was too sick to be in a classroom learning, but my parents had never let me get to the point of spending a night alone by myself. Somehow they would always be home before I finished all of my homework, chores, and had showered and brushed my teeth. I was grateful for that. It was expected that this day would be like any regular day home alone. I would mostly relax and get what I needed done finished, and the neighbors my parents had become close with would regularly check in on me.

Maybe they wouldn’t come up to my door and ask how I was doing (being a senior in high school, I didn’t need that type of supervision), but they would definitely have an eye out for me. Just in case something went wrong. Unfortunately, neither of us could expect that the “thing that went wrong” would occur the way it did.

That previous night I knew my soulmate would come soon. I had waited for so long to finally meet the person who would make me happy. Currently, my timer told me in bright, bold numbers that it would be a little more than 72 hours until I met the person that would forever change my love life. No more silly crushes on the guys at school and no more stuttering around girls I thought were pretty.

I would find someone that would love me as much as I love them and I would luck out by finding them early in life, and not soon before death.

So far, I had spent most of my day to myself thinking about who I would meet when the timer reaches zero. Simple things, like the color of their hair, had slowly turned into complex characteristics I had considered about their personalities. Would they be arrogant? Do they value family? Are they ambitious?

These questions bubbled inside of me, twisting in my stomach and floating up to become a skip in my heartbeat. To become sweat on my palms. I was unbearably anxious and dizzy at the thought of both meeting and missing them. Whether this encounter turned out good or bad, I knew my body would give me sour reactions.

To help pass time, I decided to listen to some music. Maybe I could even manage to take a nap and wake up later in the afternoon. All I know is the only thing I can manage to do is wait.


	2. Goodbye Normality

_70 Hours_

I had been sitting on my bed for almost three hours now. I knew what time it was, but I couldn’t help myself from constantly checking my phone. Checking to see its clock slowly change as the minutes passed. When I wasn’t looking at my dimmed phone screen, my eyes were focused on the white numbers counting down on my wrist. _70 : 15 : 25_. The amount of time I had to wait was so little, but at the same time, the wait was unbearable. I couldn’t stand it.

I got up from atop my bed’s large comforter and let my feet patter softly against the frigid, hardwood floor. I made my way to the hallway hiding behind my bedroom door and turned to walk down its short length. It didn’t take long for me to reach the stairs that led into the entryway of the house. As I walked downstairs the wood moaned and cracked under my weight. I remember I would skip the old steps when I was much younger, but throughout the many years of constant use, it was near impossible to avoid them.

When I finally reached the bottom of the stairwell, I turned through the halls into the kitchen. With its open floor plan and wall-to-wall windows, it felt very well lit and expansive, but in actuality, the lighting and design were made to trick the eye into thinking that there was plenty of room. With most of the wall space being used by counters or windows, it was difficult to figure out where to put large appliances. In fact, it was the sole reason why the fridge was the furthest appliance from any counter space in the kitchen. For a normal person, the extra steps wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, but my winter laziness was clearly kicking in today.

I head over toward the fridge and pantry (located in its own separate extension of the kitchen). I decided a more productive way to pass time would be to make a delicious noon-time meal and the head out for a nice walk to the park. After all, that way I’d actually be able to enjoy today’s snow day.

I grabbed some plain crackers and took out a container of leftover beef stew. I chose to heat it up quickly with the microwave and sat down on the living room floor to eat lunch. I used the glass coffee table in the center of the room to eat on and I turned the t.v. onto the news. While most kids my age wouldn’t care, I wanted to see if I could catch any coverage on the ice and snowfall that was received so far. Especially since I was planning on walking to the local park.

Turning up the volume and taking a bite of the piping hot stew, I was instantly comforted by the weather lady’s voice. After living in this town for so long, the calming voice of the news reporters I’d watch (in the morning before school and some nights before bed) had reminded me of home. Unfortunately, the weather report was quickly cut off for a section of breaking news.

It wasn’t common for such urgent news to be displayed on live television where I live. At most, these messages would come in amber alerts and flood warnings, but today was clearly different.

My eyes scanned the words across the screen with shock.

My ears refused to believe the words processed by my brain.

_Local bank robbery leaves 9 dead; suspect unknown_

The t.v. screen above me displayed unsettling pictures of the bank in question. The bank my parents worked at together as bank tellers, directly speaking with customers. The people on the other side of the counter, on the other side of the protective glass and metal bars. They should be safe. The bank was surrounded by multiple types of police officers and ambulances. People were clearly being treated, but that must mean that the robbers were gone. How did they leave without being caught? There should be a suspect. How did they get away? How could the suspect possibly be unknown?

I spring up from the floor and grab my phone from the coffee table. Running to the front door I sit down to put on my large winter coat and snow boots. I had all I needed to leave the house and head down to my parent’s workplace, but I wasn’t sure if it was completely safe to take my car. I decided it would be better to take it anyway.

I pull my keys out of my coat pocket and open my car door, slamming it shut behind me. Putting the key into the ignition, I make sure to slowly pull out of the driveway. I drove down the road at a decent speed. I was hurrying, but careful to not go too fast. I hated the thought of my parents being okay, yet me getting in a car accident on my way to see them, due to my own recklessness. It would only take about 45 minutes for me to pull into the bank parking lot. I couldn’t stand it. It felt like my body would combust. All this time I’ve been caught up on the thought of waiting three days to meet my soulmate and now I’m absolutely torn at the thought of waiting 45 minutes to find out if one (or both) of my parents are dead or injured.

When I reached the bank, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting. The parking lot was completely taped off and the perimeter of that tape was surrounded by local reporters, news outlets, and onlookers. I pulled onto the side of the road next to news vans and some police cruisers. After exiting my car, I ran up to the officers fending off reporters, almost slipping on a patch of ice.

“Hello. My par-” I say sounding out of breath, “my parents. They work here!”

“I can’t let you through right now, but I can take your name and number. You can head down to the police station as you wait. This area likely won’t be open for a while.” the police officer said.

“When will they be able to leave?” I ask

“If they aren’t being treated by paramedics or sent to the hospital all witnesses will be brought down to the police station for questioning. You can meet them there. Give me your name and number, and if they aren’t headed to the police station then I will contact you as soon as we have information” he says sternly.

“Uhh, okay”

I give the man my name and number and take a walk of defeat back to my car. I close the door and sit. My hands on the wheel, I stare blankly at my feet. I rub the pads of my thumbs against the wheel. It was slightly relaxing. I let my head rest against it and I sigh deeply.

Why today? Could this affect my soulmate? What if I end up not meeting them? What if something bad happens? Will I have to lose my parents to meet the one person that will make me happy?

I put my key in the ignition and sit a minute before I decide to pull out. It was a slow drive to the police station. I sat in silence. The roads weren’t too busy, but dark clouds started to roll in, replacing the light grey clouds from this morning. I don’t think I have ever been to this side of town before. It looked historic and was surrounded by thick woods. The police station was multilevel and placed at the outskirts of the woods. It had a decent amount of cars in its parking lot. I pulled in and locked my car door. My knees were weak and unsteady as I walked up to the front door. I had barely anything on me, so sitting in this police station would surly be hell. I swing open the large glass door and step into the front lobby. There were a few people who seemed like they could be in the same situation as me. They looked frightened and anxious like a lover waiting in the ICU for bad news. They could be anyone, or they could be families of those in that bank. 

I walk up to the front desk. There is a lady in a police uniform typing on a keyboard. I felt bad knowing I was going to interrupt her. 

"Excuse me? I'm a family member of someone from the-uhh. Bank robbery. I was told to wait here." I said softly.

"Oh, you can write your name, number, and family member's information on that clipboard over there. When you're done hand it over to me and then you may sit wherever you want. We'll call you up when we're notified of any news." she responded. 

"Thank you." 

I grab the clipboard. There must've been a lot of people in there for them to set these clipboards out. I take a pen and sit down at the row of seats closest to the front desk. I fill in my name and number for the second time today and stare at the list of information I have to put down. My parent's name, phone number, home number, address, relation to me, the list went on. I start to slowly fill in the information when I hear the sound of yet another person entering the lobby. I don't bother to look up until I hear them speak. 

It was a young mother talking to her child. Her father was clearly involved with the robbery, but the child was blind to the real intensity of the situation. 

I quickly finished filling out the paper of information and handed it to the lady at the front desk. I sat down again, this time at a row of seats against a wall. I knew I'd be here long, so why not try and be as comfortable as possible. I stared down at my wrist for the first time in a while. _68:54:15._

My constant countdown on my wrist told me I had been out for just above 2 hours. How had the time disappeared so quickly? I turned on my phone and was disappointed to find no messages. Nothing. I opened my text messages and open the list of texts I had sent to my closest friend. Emilia and I had only known each other for 2 years, but we had grown close in no time. We knew each other closer than anyone else we knew. I sent her a text: _just had a family emergency may not go to school tomorrow._

It was an understatement to say I had a headache.


	3. Waiting

_64 hours_

It was 6:00 pm and I had dozed off at the police station. My head was laying on the wall behind me. I was suddenly woken up when a group of police officers had walked through the door. There hadn't been much foot traffic throughout the day, so the change in surroundings easily disturbed my sleep. My mouth was dry and tasted like salt, my neck was stiff and my back was sore. One of the officers was talking to the lady at the desk. I checked my phone. I had 2 missed calls and 5 messages. I unlocked my phone to see that all of these messages came from Emilia, but one of the calls was from an unknown number and came with a voicemail. 

I walked up to the front desk. The police officer had just gone around back and the lady behind the computer screen (still tapping on the keyboard) made eye contact with me. She knew something. 

"Oh, you're awake! I didn't want to wake you up but I have news for you, hun," she said quietly. She led me to a separate area of the police station. I assumed it was where the officers interviewed and questioned people involved with cases. I was brought into a room in the back of a long hallway. 

"Sit here, I'll be back with someone to talk to you." she left. 

The room was cold and the floor was some sort of concrete. On the table, there was a bar. I think it was used to handcuff people, but I wasn't entirely sure. Were they questioning me? I wasn't a witness so I couldn't give them any good feedback. 

It took less than 5 minutes for a tall, male officer to open the room's heavy door. 

"Good evening Miss (L/N). I am officer Douglas. I'm here to talk about your parents, correct?" 

"Yes, sir. Are they okay?" I ask frantically. 

"I'm sorry Miss (L/N), but your parents were a victim of the robbery. They are dead." 

My world dropped. It couldn't be true. They should've been safe. 

"How did..." I start. 

"I understand your confusion. Unfortunately, our investigation is still ongoing. We aren't sure how the suspects managed to do what they did, but we do know what the suspects were wearing at the time, we have accurate descriptions from all witnesses, and we know that the suspects have serious injuries. This is all we can tell you for now. Investigations are still occurring." he states. Stuck in a state of pure shock, I feel nothing other than the deep pit in my stomach. The officer continues to speak until he catches my attention. 

"We are aware that you have been 18 for a few months now, however, we have notified your godparent of your current situation. If you didn't know, your aunt is still willing to take you in for as long as you need and she is currently driving down to meet you. It should take an hour. Until then, we recommend that you stay here for now, as your aunt was instructed to pick you up from the station." he said calmly.

My expression felt quite blank. I still couldn't process the thought that my parents were really gone. I have so many questions that need to be answered, but I feel like the officer wasn't going to tell me much. I open my mouth but decide to keep quiet. I close my mouth and just nod my head in understanding. The officer stands up and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Let's go. We're gonna get you some water and a snack" he smiles. 

I keep my head down, but without question or protest, I follow the officer back into the hall and out towards the main lobby. On the separate side of the station, there is another long hall. It's blocked off by a half door that comes up to just below my waist. It must've been for officers. Not too far down the hall, we turned into a workers lounge. There was a water machine, a fridge, a vending machine, and a counter space. In the middle of the room were two circular tables. It was a nice break room in comparison to the ones you'd see at schools. 

The officer led me to one of the tables and had me sit down. He came back with a bag of chips and a small cup of ice cold water. I thanked him. I hadn't eaten in hours, so Mr. Douglas' kind gesture was much appreciated. It felt nice to be in the company of someone who cared. Maybe it was because I'm still technically a kid, but nonetheless, I knew Mr. Douglas was a good soul. He must've done this often. Him taking me to get something to eat seemed like an instant reaction. 

It didn't take long to finish the small bag of vending machine chips. Eventually, Mr. Douglas walked me back into the lobby where we said our silent goodbyes. I sat down at the same chair that leaned against the wall and Mr. Douglas walked into one of the back rooms. I opened my phone again and looked through my messages from Emilia. She sounded worried, but she took my silence as a need for space. Either that, or she knew I was busy. 

I chose not to tell her what I found out about my parents. I'd rather tell her in person. I sent her another text: _I'm okay, but I don't think I'll be back in school for a while. sorry for worrying you._

I began to think. Thinking soon lead to crying. Silent tears clouded my vision and rolled down my face, stopping at the end of my jaw. Would I end up living with Aunt Lillian? She lived in the next city over. Well, it wasn't really a city, more of a really small, rural town in what I believed is part of the forest behind the police station. I had never been there before. Aunt Lillian had always brought her family to our house for the holidays. I would have to move schools, I would be in a completely different zip code, I would be living far from other people. Not even just far from other people, I would be living in the woods. 

Aunt Lillian also had an 8-year-old son. What's it going to be like living with another kid in the house? I sat for some time thinking of almost every possibility and hypothetical that could result in living with Aunt Lillian. This entire day has been spent with every minute filled with anxiety and anticipation. Speaking of which, I look down at my wrist. _64:02:13._ My stomach started to churn even more. 

I start to tap my fingers on the chair armrest and shake my leg up and down. I was done waiting. I needed something to turn my brain off.

t other than that uninteresting. Until he ran up frantically to the lady who was still working at the desk. He spoke in quiet panicked words. He sounded scared, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. The lady at the desk was trying to calm him down when she called for help from some officer in the back of the office. He was escorted to a separate room. 

The door opened yet another time, but now I was greeted by my Aunt Lillian. She looked tired and beaten, but she wouldn't let me see her in such an emotional state right now. She was good at hiding her raw emotion. She covered it by worrying about me, instead of the death of her brother. She ran up to me, pulling me into a tight hug. 

"(Y/N)! Oh my God are you okay?" she pulled away to hold my head in her hands. We were both teary-eyed, but I was the one who let them fall. She stayed strong for me. Aunt Lillian pulled me back into another comforting embrace. "I came down as soon as I could," she whispered. She looked toward the lady at the front desk and they shared a look. It was odd, I felt like a child being picked up from the nurse's office, but I didn't need to be signed out. We just left. I didn't talk much and Aunt Lillian wasn't pushy on getting responses. She knew I was in more distress than I thought I was. 

It was freezing outside since the sun was well below the horizon. Aunt Lillian told me that we would get my car the next day, for now, we were going to head down to my home and get some of my things. It was going to be a very long night, and we both knew it. 

When we pulled up into my driveway, the look of my house brought sadness. It brought longing and loneliness. I should be coming home late from hanging out with friends, not coming home from a police station after the death of my parents. Aunt Lillian walked me in and I turned on the lights in the house. She helped me grab suitcases from atop the closet shelf and she helped me grab some basic necessities. She mostly packed food and toiletries as they were things she knew I needed to live with her. I went upstairs to my room. Upon entering, I dropped an empty duffel bag down. I take in the view. All of the things my parents bought for me. I make my way to my closet and dresser and take out enough clothes to last me a week. I pack some books I haven't read yet, a journal and some pens, skincare products and any makeup I might use in the next few days.

Aunt Lillian comes in. 

"We have a bed for you, but you can bring some blankets or pillows if you'd like," she said. 

"Okay." 

I finished packing the bag and grabbed a very full and round pillow from my bed. I also took a crocheted blanket I got for my birthday a few years ago. It was my personal, 18-year-old security blanket, in a sense. I bring my things out into the hall. Aunt Lillian heads downstairs, I yell to her saying I'd be down soon, but I head into my parent's bedroom. They kept most of their memories here, unlike most families how displayed them for all to see in their living rooms. I grab a small framed picture of us (something that you'd find in an office cubicle) and I grab a scrapbook. My mom had been working on it for some time. She was very proud of it. 

I gather everything and head downstairs. It was time to leave. Aunt Lillian gives me another hug and a kiss on the cheek before we head out for the night. Her car trunk was crowded. I decided I'd keep my laptop bag in the front with me and I charged my phone while we drove. I felt bad that she was taking me in. She had gone so far out of her way for me when she didn't need to. 

I fell asleep sometime on the ride back.


	4. Pipe Dreams

Aunt Lillian shook me awake. I was still in the car and we had arrived at what was the garage of what must have been Aunt Lillian's house. Groggily, I grabbed my computer and phone and headed into the house. Aunt Lillian walked with me. My uncle, Michael, was grabbing my things. 

Their house looked cozy. It was warm and most lights were off. It was clearly late, so my cousin must be sleeping. I didn't know much about him because there was such a large age gap between us. All I know is his name is Johnathan and he is the epitome of childhood innocence. I was brought to my room, the guest room, and immediately kicked off my shoes. The room had the same hardwood as the rest of the house and the bed was queen sized. 

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Aunt Lillian left and that was all I could remember. I passed out. That night was dreamless.

I woke again later (for what seemed like the 50th time in the last two days) by strong daylight coming through the room's thin curtains. My phone said it was 9:00 am. I looked at my countdown. _49_ _:25:59._ I would meet my soulmate two days after the murder of my parents. I hope they had the patience for broken people. 

I left my room. Surprisingly (and thankfully), my phone was still well charged at around 80%. I headed for the living room. The house was much more beautiful when I could actually see it. I saw Johnathan playing out in the backyard through a glass screen door in the living room. Uncle Michael was helping my Aunt in the kitchen. They had just started cooking. I walked up. 

"Ah, you're up. How many eggs do you want for breakfast kiddo." Michael said softly. 

"Two, please. Can I help?" I ask. 

"You can make the toast." replied my aunt. She gestured towards their toaster and a bag of bread. It was the bread my parents would never buy, whole wheat with a seeded crust. The kind that only fits halfway into the toaster. I took my time trying to evenly toast our bread. Each of us got one slice and I slowly covered them in butter. I finished the toast earlier than it took for the eggs to be finished, but I got to help Michael set their circular kitchen table. There was just enough room for the four of us. 

Aunt Lillian brought the food out to the table, while Jonathan was called in. He was excited to see me. I don't think my aunt and uncle told him the news yet. I wasn't planning on being there when they did. Was he old enough to understand? 

The breakfast I was given was lovely. While I still believed my own mom could make better fried eggs than Aunt Lilian, our conversation was lively and innocent. We took turns sharing about how we slept. Johnathan took the longest. He described dreams about flying and living in worlds of adventure. Nowadays, my dreams are very mild and don't feel as realistic. It was nice to hear about what vivid fantasies our brains are capable of making. 

Michael and Johnathan did our dishes after breakfast. Aunt Lillian sat with me in the living room. She held my hand and gave me a small smile. That smile was full of pain, but its intent was reassurance. We sat for a while without saying anything. We both knew each other's suffering at the moment. I wonder what was in the call she received. I slightly hoped they told her more, just for the thought that my parent's murder wasn't a complete mystery. That there could be hope about vengeance. 

Her gaze fell to my wrist where my countdown ticked away. 48 hours were left. It was as if she understood everything and I then realized how genuine and understanding my aunt was. She somehow understood my struggle. She understood my anticipation and worry. Most who are reaching the end of the countdown usually feel a multitude of emotions. She was very observant to understand to state I was in. Nobody expects something like this to happen around their countdown end. I was obviously stressed. 

Her expression spoke paragraphs without any needed words. She pulled me in close and held me. It wasn't long before I was crying again, but I wasn't alone. Even though my head was buried in her chest, I could tell by the cracks in her voice and her slick cheeks that she was crying too. 

"It's going to be okay," she said, "we're going to get through this together." 

We sat there, listening to the birds chirping outside. No matter how upset we were, there was a point where our tears would stop, yet we still sat holding each other. I didn't know where the other two were, but that was the least of my concern at the moment. All I could think about is what next. 

Whenever I'd get stressed or upset, my mom would tell me to work in small steps. Basically, baby steps. Instead of worrying about the questions that could be answered later, I was taught that if it meant working task by task, you do it. It helps you get through the day. It was essentially setting tiny, easily manageable goals to get you to the next step. I often strayed from her advice. Hell, these past two days, all I've done is stress over what will happen next. But it's hard to stop. 

I pull away from Lillian. We were both a mess. 

"I'm gonna brush my teeth," I say. 

"Alright, sweetie." she smiled. 

"Where's the bathroom?" 

"At the end of the hall. Your things are in your room." 

"Thanks."

I head back to my room and shuffle through my duffel bag. I grab out my things and head to the bathroom. While brushing my teeth, I look at my tear-stained face. My eyes were red and puffy. I wasn't presentable at all. I hope my soulmate doesn't have to see me like this. I wouldn't be too satisfied if it were my first impression. I wash my face off with a few splashes of warm water. I was still in yesterdays clothes. For everyone's best interest, I head back to my room to change.

While walking back, a dark shadow passed a window. I assumed it was Michael and Johnathan playing outside. However, when all was done and I entered the living room again everyone was sitting on the couch. " _Alright_." I think. It could've been anything. I join the rest of the family in front of the t.v. and keep to myself while we watch some classic movies. I curl up in the corner of the couch. 

I wanted to sink in. I wanted to disappear. Close my eyes and be in my own lucid dream. I could live there forever. Things could go my way and we could live together again. We could see each other again. We could be happy together. 

I grab a throw pillow and pull it against my chest, bringing my knees with it. I wanted to bury myself. Closing my eyes I listen to what's around me. In the background of the movie, I could almost hear the birds and wildlife outside. The window above me made their chirps muted, but it didn't take away from their lively song. Most have headed south by now. I wonder how long it will take for them to be gone.

I sit up slightly, still holding the pillow. I didn't recognize what was playing on the t.v. and I wasn't sure how far in we were. I felt like my brain was hyperactive at this point. Hyperactive or overwhelmed. Both. 

I'm bored and sad. An awful combination. I stare down at my timer. The numbers ticked by slowly. I'm flooded with more thoughts about my soulmate. How am I supposed to fall in love with this person, and how will they manage to fall in love with me? I remember learning about soulmates from freshman year, but I still don't understand how it just has a system. What causes random mutual attraction? 

_"Two days"_ I think. Maybe they're broken too.


	5. Lanineau

As the movie playing slowly came to an end, I left for the guest bedroom I was staying in. Nobody in the house intended on forcing me to stay. I hadn’t taken much time to appreciate what the house and its surroundings looked like, so why not use it as yet another way to distract myself.

The room was of average size. It was pretty plain in decoration. Not that it wasn’t beautiful, of course; the design and layout were brilliant. Instead, it lacked characterization. It lacked the memories and personalization that someone would put in to make it their own.

The bed was centered against the wall directly in front of the door. The wall had two, tall windows on both the left and right side of the bed. Even though both had curtains, they still let in plenty of late-morning/early afternoon sunlight. I walk over to the bed and fix its covers, moving my things off and into a corner of the room. Now they were neatly placed next to a small closet which looked like it was being used for storage. The walls were a greyish blue color.

I thought about decorating. I could put pictures of me and my friends, my family. It reminded me that I’m living in this house for now. I’m still not exactly sure how long, but where else would I go? I grab the family portrait from my bag and put it on the bed’s nightstand. “Baby steps,” I say to myself.

There wasn’t much left that I could do in the room, so I head into the hallway. Clearly, my aunt and uncle weren’t planning on having a big family. Their house was like a bungalow-cottage mix: no upper or lower levels, small property, all in the middle of this forest. It was more desolate than I was used to. More desolate than probably most people were used to. I walk past the living room.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” I said.

“Okay, just make sure to bring your phone with you. Don’t want-cha to get lost, this wooded area can get confusing sometimes.” Michael smiled at me.

I nod. I jog back to my room and grab my thick jacket and shoes. The thought of going into the woods was oddly exciting. I could have some privacy, even if just for a moment. I open the front door and close it softly behind me. I look down to see a light amount of snowfall blanketing the roads and houses. Hopefully, it isn’t too icy outside.

As I walk away from the house, the sounds of soft wind brushing against the trees fill my ears. They look as tall as three-story buildings. When I glance up, they always seemed to tower far above me. If it were dark outside, the sight would quickly become intimidating. I follow the road in the direction that leads further into the forest.

With each step, getting further and further away from my aunt’s, I become aware of how exactly isolated the neighborhood is. Occasionally, I cross by a house here and there, but no cars have gone past me and no people have walked by. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume all of these houses were empty, but their driveways display nice cars and a sense of life.

Continuing down the road, I see a trail into the forest. It’s one of those official hiking trails with a sign at the front. I walk up to get a closer look. At the top was the name “Pineneedle Nature Reserve”. Underneath, an etched out map of the area was illustrated. Most of the map was just lines representing trails and roads, but in front of one of them was a circle in some sort of black print. At the very bottom of the sign, there was a bullet point stating “You are here: Lanineau Trail, 7 miles”

The rest of the sign didn’t say much, there were only emergency numbers and hotlines to call if the wildlife was in danger. Picking up my feet, I lurch down the trail. Yes, I was drained and tired, but I felt like the trail gave me a purpose to continue walking (instead of staying inside all day). It was like I was asked to go in as if the forest beckoned me kindly.

The pathway looked well used. Dirt mixed with snow turning it into a grimy sludge. I was now completely engulfed by trees, but the sun managed to shine through the canopy of leaves and branches. Looking off of the path, the ground was covered in foliage, in addition to various roots and branches. The combination left for a very thick obstacle. I wasn’t planning on going in anytime soon.

A memory of my home is brought into my head. All of this unfamiliar scenery and quick changes have made it hard for me to really think about what has happened. My parents are gone. They left me one morning and I'll never see them again. My heart bashes against my rib cage and my lips are pressed into a tight frown. They are supposed to see me graduate. They are supposed to cry when they send me off to college. They are supposed to celebrate with me when I meet my soulmate. They are supposed to be here for me, but now I have nothing. 

I chuckle. "Isn't it just convenient?" I feel hot embarrassment, guilt, shame and so much more rising to paint my cheeks an uncomfortable shade of red. I feel hollow. Miserable. I am lonely. I have no one left for me. I don't understand why the world decided to take away what it so graciously gave me. The world gets to decide who lives and who dies and they punish me. I have no say in how my life goes anymore. I have no control anymore. I feel blank. 

I try and get out of my head as my gut is hit with anxiety. I take another good look around.

The atmosphere in the woods is contradicting. The trees stood lively and proud of their home, but there was a lack of wildlife. Birds were a very common sight, nestled in the trees, but nothing else was around. The wind and shrill birdsong made for a cacophony in my ears. With each rustle behind the trees, my eyes dart to its direction. While the forest floor is crowded, the trees are far apart, making it easy to see a good distance in.

I see a figure. Tall and lean. It blends in with the trees. I can’t tell what it is. I stop walking. The sound of my footsteps stops after I do. They aren’t mine. My body washes over with a sense of dread. My head looks behind my shoulder.

No one.

Just empty space. No animals or people. I look forward again. The figure is gone. The forest is silent and still. I turn around and walk back to the entrance of the wooded area, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. I turn it on. 10%. I sigh and pick up my speed. My head is pounding and there is a pit in my stomach that drags my body down. My phone clock tells me I’ve been out much longer than I had believed. I don’t know whether or not to be proud of myself. I ultimately found a good way to pass my time, but I also scared the shit out of myself at the same time. What was that thing?

My body does what it does best when frightened. Tears start to prick at my eyes. My nose and eyes sting painfully. I cross my arms and hug myself tightly. It keeps me slightly warmer in the decreasing temperatures. While walking, I start to panic. I hadn’t yet reached the entrance of the forest, even though I had been walking out for quite some time. How far had I gone in?

I widen my steps, trying to cover more ground. My headache pain has grown and all I want to do is go back to the house and lay down. My walking speed was similar to something you'd see at a high school. If anyone is in the woods and can see me now, I probably look like one of those girls that manage to be all the way across the campus before you're even out of the hallway. Step after step I'm making so much ground that if I speed up, I'd be jogging my way home. My foot soon hits a patch of ice and my leg flies in front of me. I hit the ground, but I'm more shocked than I am hurt. 

I sigh and push myself off of the floor. I'm wary of the ice under me as I take a large step in front of me. "Idiot," I think to myself, "I'm such a mess". I stand and look in front of me. It looks and feels like I've been walking in place for the past 10 minutes. 

I snap my head to the side. There's another rustle somewhere hidden in the trees. The sound of bushes moving and twigs cracking under heavy feet (or at least under heavy force). I hear someone (or something) walking, but I don't see anything. There's no way a being small enough to exist below the underbrush could make such loud noises. I turn my body a full 360 degrees to scan the entirety of the trees around me. Nothing. 

Hesitantly, I move forward. I eventually start to walk at a normal pace and reach what looks like the beginning of the trail. The trees start to thin out more and I think I can see a car passing on the road. The sun looks low in the sky. I know it's almost winter, but it can't possibly be so late already. 

A wave of relief and joy washes over me as I exit the enclosed trail. I'm back on the sidewalk and I'm giddy at the thought of making it home. Now that I'm not so close to the massive trees that surround the trail, I can see dark storm clouds heading into the area. Thank God I got out when I did.

I reach my aunt's house faster than I thought I would. I open the door. I'm surprised that it is unlocked, but I assume it's because they were waiting for me to get back. I close and lock the door behind me. The smell of fresh pasta reaches my nose. It smells wonderful. I take off my winter boots and heavy jacket to leave them neatly at the front door. It feels like shedding a skin. Now that I have cleared my mind and expressed myself, I don't feel as stressed. I move a few steps and peek past a wall. Dinner was still being cooked in the kitchen. I don't know where anyone is. 

I walk to my room. The movement of the sun to the other side of the house cause the lighting in the room to fade away. I turn on the ceiling light and move to my bag in the corner of the room. I pull out a pair of thick, wool leggings and a sweatshirt. I really underrated this casual style and I suddenly regretted it. 

I have a feeling I'll be dressing like this more often. 

I remember my almost dead phone and I hastily plug it in and place it onto the nightstand. I grab my laptop, turn it on, and plug it in. I resist the thought of searching for what happened yesterday. I don't know how. I click on to the search bar and start to look up the town I am in. With no warning, my computer screen goes black. My brow furrows in confusion. Little dots pop up and I begin to stare at the static. 

"I have a headache again," I grunt to myself. The screen doesn't change, so I do the one thing I always hate doing. I press the small power button next to the built-in keyboard. The screen goes black again. I'm sure it's turned off, so I slam the lid shut. I really hope I don't have to buy a new computer. 

I walk to the living room in defeat. I plop into the quicksand of a couch and look at my wrist. 42 hours. How have I been gone for six hours? How had I managed to get so lost? 

My aunt walks in from the backyard. She seems pleased to see me at home. I wonder if she worried about me. 

"Dinner will be done in 5 minutes," she said before walking into the kitchen. 

I don't respond. With my back and head resting against the couch cushion, I stare deep into the white ceiling. My mind goes blank. I am light. I am weightless. 

Where am I?


	6. Running Out Of Time

My heavy eyelids drag down, forcing- no, yelling at me. Pleading me to keep my eyes shut. Just fade to black again. Just close your eyes again. With great effort and stinging pain, I open them. The images in front of me are spinning in dramatic rocking motions. I moan. My dizziness makes me think I'm moving slightly, but I know for a fact that I'm laying perfectly still. I roll onto my stomach (which only makes me sicker) and let my face make friends with the dirt. The dirt? 

I continue to fight the need to close my eyes while I try to become aware of my surroundings. There is no light, but my eyes are adjusted to the dark. Moonlight illuminates the area around me. I'm wearing a sweatshirt, but one of my sleeves is rolled up. My arm is covered in bloody scratches and blotchy, purple bruises. My skin is in close reflection to my current health, it appears sickly and dirty. Looking past my arm, I can see many dormant bushes resembling various shades. I would be completely covered by them if it weren't for the fact that I am laying in a clear patch of the floor. The forest floor. 

My mind is abruptly aware of the aches all over my body. Both my legs feel like they're made of jelly, even though they aren't supporting my body weight. My shoulders and biceps are like textbooks pinning my hands to the wet snowy earth. My hips are broken mechanisms, denying my lower half from pushing myself up. I am at my own body's mercy. I am no longer in control. Where am I? 

I try to lift my head up by supporting it with my chin, but my body downright refuses. All I manage to do is rub my cheek into the dirt. The dirt that was basically mud, because light snowfall had managed to melt into its surface. I clench my hands closed with the intention of grabbing the ground. I grab an entire palm full, getting my sweatshirt coated. The ground slips beneath me and glides under my fingernails. It is a fork scraping against a glass bowl. My sleeve slowly slides down my arm Every inch of my body erupts in bright flames as I push my body up to rest on my hands and knees. With a gag, I start to heave up a meal that doesn't exist. It's as if my stomach collapses in on itself as my airways close and my diaphragm retracts. I start to sob. The mud on my face mixes with my tears. At least in not dehydrated. 

My head starts to pound in my skull as a high pitched noise enters my eardrums. It reverberates inside of me. It feels like anger. It hits me straight in my chest.

By crawling, I lug my body a few feet away from where I was previously laying. I sit down and prop my head and back on a tree's spiny bark. I can't move anymore. I don't want to. I try and think of how I got to where I am: bloodied and bruised in the middle of nowhere. My thoughts are too busy. My suffering is too loud. I am lost in more ways than one. I look down at my legs and my whole center of gravity shifts. I almost fall forward into my lap. Blood has soaked through a grey pair of wool leggings. I pull my left sleeve up a little past my wrist. The motion is hell, but it is quickly worth my while. 

5:05:17.

I choke on pure air. I can't breathe. I try and yell (for help, for my agony, for anything), but I can only let out gasps and whimpers as my lungs refuse their only basic functionality. Release carbon dioxide, bring in oxygen. 

I am overcome with intense dizziness and exhaustion. What am I supposed to do when I can't even get up? What if I die? My soulmate will be left alone for the rest of their life. They won't even know my name. My hands grasp my thighs as if they'd steady my vision. My knuckles are also bruised. It looks like I tried to punch a wall. My combination of sobbing and choking leads to me dry heaving again. I let out noises of distress. It hurt so deeply, but my instincts continued to fight against my own decisions. It felt like my vocal cords were being ripped out as I release a raspy scream. 

The sound scares birds out of the trees. I brace myself and use the bark I depend on to hold me. I stand. It causes severe pain. I can barely keep myself upright. I want to give up. I want to let go. I choose not to. 

My world isn't dizzy anymore. I take a better look around. I look like I'm deep in the middle of some woods. I can't see anything other than wildlife. I put as much weight as I can on the tree as I pat through the clothes on my body. I can't find a phone. I stand there for a minute or two and try and calm down. It doesn't work very well and I impulsively stumble forwards. I nearly fall to the ground, but I steady myself. Where is everyone? 

Each step I take feels like a workout program: I'm carrying a 15-pound medicine ball and I'm doing deep luges. Except, in reality, I'm doing the exact opposite. Another step in and my hip makes a loud pop. It didn't hurt, but the noise makes me even more nervous at my current condition. This can't be good at all. My leggings keep getting caught in bush branches and my arms are scraped by sharp thorns. I lean on every tree I can touch. Bitter air causes my face to tingle and go numb, I don't notice the intense cold until I feel a warm liquid slide down my lip. I bring the back of my hand to my mouth and wipe the wetness across my face. I thought my nose just started running, but when I bring my hand back to my side I notice a smear of bright red blood. I stop. 

My head is facing down so my eyes can stare at my hand. Tiny drops of blood occasionally fall straight from my nose to the ground. What the hell did I do to myself? 

The trees seem to go on forever. I push back branch after branch, but I feel like I'm stuck in time. I hear a thunderous crash to the left of me. The sound makes me jump. I start to hyperventilate. The forest suddenly feels too crowded and noisy. 

"Where was I last?" I think to myself. I definitely don't remember being 5 hours away from meeting my soulmate and I definitely don't remember being in the middle of the forest around my aunt's house. "My aunt's house!" that's a good start. I remember that I'm spending my time with my aunt. I remember that my parents were in a robbery. I remember that they died. I'm too stressed to think of more than what's most impacted me this past week, but I know there's more. It's so palpable. I can feel it, but it's like a word that I just can't seem to remember. 

Ahead of me, a bright light shines in my eyes. I squint. I hear the telltale sound of tires rolling and an engine running. I push away a few more branches to be met with a road. I look to my left and see a car driving away. 

"Wait!" I scream. The car keeps going. Fuck. 

I look down both sides of the road. I have no idea where I am, let alone which way to go. That car could be going anywhere. I wipe mud and tears off of my face. I go left where the car went. I stumble down the side of the road. At least now it feels like I'm making progress. 

I follow the road's twists and turns until I reach a small house. It looks empty, but I rush up to the front door in hope. I ring the doorbell, but there is no answer. I slam my fists against the hard wood. No one is home. I let my head fall onto the door in defeat. I need to keep going. 

I turn and stare out at the road in front of me. The door now behind me rips open. 

"Do you have any idea what time it is? It's 5 in the morning. People are-" 

I cut off the lady who answered the door by turning around. She looks at me in utter shock and horror. "Please, call the police call an ambulance, anything!" I plead. 

She stutters but she doesn't move, not immediately. A tall figure walks up from behind her. He mumbles as he steps up but when he reaches the door he stops. The woman is put out of her trance-like state and she rushes to grab a landline phone. She tells the 911 operator our location in short breathy sentences. The man brings me in to sit in a kitchen chair. Hot tears stream down my face again. My shoes track dirt into (from what I can assume is) the couple's expensive home.

"What's your name?" the man asks. 

"What?" I wasn't paying much attention.

"Your name. The operator wants to know your name."

"Oh," I try to hide my embarrassment. "(y/n), my name is (y/n)."


	7. No Man Is An Island

The paramedics arrive in no time when you take into account how far we are from the main city. At least, I've been lead to believe that most people and sources are far away. The paramedics that show up are accompanied by a single police officer. He seems apathetic about the situation. All it takes is one glance to see that he wants to leave. Most likely, he's forced to stay with me until the paramedics go.

In a matter of minutes, I answer millions of questions. All have a similar subject: what can I remember, what have I forgotten, and what is my family medical history. I never learned about my family history. It was never something that I'd thought of needing to know. I sat in silent fear, not comforted by the bright yellow light engulfing the kitchen. Is this something serious? My mind races. I know nothing about what could've caused my amnesia. My mind decides to theorize every possible option for why it could've happened. What if I have a tumor?

Included in the verbal questionnaire given to me, I am asked whether I remember where I last was. Of course, I am well aware of my situation with Aunt Lillian, but I have no idea how to explain it. How do I get the message across of why I recently moved in with my aunt? Do I even need to include that?

I'm washed with shame in not being able to relay such simple and basic information. Then again, I could always give the paramedics up to three different numbers. Two wouldn't answer. My parents were gone and the bank they worked at definitely wouldn't know how to express that to the men in the room.

"We don't have a lot of options here right now and you aren't in good health. We're gonna bring you to a hospital to treat you. In the meantime, we're gonna get your files up and try to get ahold of your aunt."

I nod without any reluctance. I'm exhausted and being in a hospital will mean sleep. I stare down at my wrist. The clock in the kitchen ticks the minutes by like seconds. I had roughly 4 hours until I'm supposed to meet my soulmate. Every day I feel worse and worse for them. They're gonna get stuck with someone like me: an absolute train wreck. Within the past week, I've moved two hours away from home. I've lost my parents. I've missed an entire fucking school week. Above all, I came back beaten from the middle of the forest with unexplained amnesia.

I daydream back to when I was younger. Back to when I first started getting nervous about meeting my soulmate. It was six years ago, and I remember my parents reassuring me. They told me how feeling nervous about the occasion is completely normal. They also told me that meeting the love of your life makes up for it. I can't help but tear up at how I was back then. Things were different. Things were... better. I try my best to emulate some sort of happiness in that packed room. I fail to do so.

It's suddenly impossible to convince myself that this person will love me. It's never been a problem for me before, but something makes me doubt myself. Years of self-love vanish in minutes. My parents have always been my rock. The anchor that kept me grounded and on task. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, I no longer feel like I have that support.

The police officer leaves before anyone else does. One of the paramedics packs up his equipment and the other put his hand on my back.

"I-," I stumble on my words. I realize that I have nothing to say.

"It's time to go." the man says. I can't recall what he said his name was, but he treated me with surplus amounts of kindness. It was almost too much, but it was comforting. It relaxed me, the way he spoke with a soft, deep voice.

He understands. It's painful and uncomfortable, but I wobble up to the ambulance. He understands, but there is a flash of disappointment in his eyes. He can tell that I am in pain and he puts his arm around my shoulder, helping me inside. I sit in the back with the man. We begin to move away from the family's house. It remains silent until he decides to speak up.

"Are you hungry?"

"What?"

"If you're hungry, I can let the hospital know when we bring you in. It might get you some food faster."

"Oh," I nod. The family that took me in gave me some water while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Dryness no longer scratched at the back of my throat but I was a little hungry. I guess I must have blocked it out earlier. The things adrenaline could do.

It felt like it took a good 20 minutes for us to reach the hospital. If the amount of time it took to get there wasn't a clear sign, the appearance of the hospital told me it wasn't the one I was familiar with. Even though it was quite busy, it was far smaller than the one I was taken to multiple times as a kid. I sigh, praying that I'm not too far from home.

When the ambulance's back doors are open, I'm not greeted with much. It's only a few people, but I was half expecting to see a large group of worried trauma surgeons. After second thoughts, I'm glad there isn't much of a crowd. I'm already using a priceless resource that could be saving a life. The last thing I want right now is to get scolded by the people that help save those lives.

A wheelchair brings me into the hospital and I'm put on a bed. When I'm pulled into a permanent hospital room, I'm filled with confusion. I must be staying here for a while if they're giving me my own room. Those who help me in leave and I'm left alone with a young nurse. She gives me a thin hospital gown and a moment to change. When I'm done, she attaches me to a monitor and checks my vitals. It's a repeat of what the gentle paramedic did for me. The only difference is now I'm put on an iv and a waiting list for scans of my brain. The nurse briefly goes over my condition. She explains that an injury could be the cause of my amnesia or a result of what happened during my 'episode'. I guess that's what we're calling it now. 

I give her my name. I also tell her the name of my aunt and uncle. She heads out, assuring me that someone will be here soon. Being left alone quickly fucks me over. Tears stream down my face and roll off my chin, landing on the hospital gown. For the umpteenth time, my emotional barrier collapses. It's a quiet riot. While my emotions are raging inside of me, they manage to stay (mostly) inside. I don't sob or choke or whimper. I just let the tears continue and sniffles develope. Somehow it was more pathetic than the last time. 

Anxiety eats away at my stomach when I catch a glimpse of my wrist. I still had roughly 4 hours but I can no longer imagine what they're going to be like. If I meet them somewhere behind these walls, are they going to be a patient? I clear my throat and wipe the tears off of my face. I was mostly cleaned up from dried blood, but I still had scrapes and bruises. My aunt is going to flip when she sees me like this. I feel so bad. I have no idea how I got into this situation. A feeling in my gut tells me that no one could've guessed that it was going to happen. I don't know why but I feel a need to apologize to everyone. I don't think I purposely did anything wrong, yet it seems just like a thing I would do. Of course, I'd send a grieving family into emotional distress not long after an important part of their immediate family dies. 

I think about how I'm going to apologize when she comes down. Truly, nothing could make it up to them. 

The door to the room opens and the same nurse comes back in with another wheelchair. 

"You lucked out. You got priority today, so you were bumped high up on the waiting list. Of all days for us to have a short CT Scan list, you picked a good one." she states. She helps me on to the wheelchair. She must _love_ this part of her job. 

The room for the CT scan isn't too far away, so it's a short trip. The lady asks if I have any magnetic possessions on me and I shake my head. I'm situated on the bed of the machine where I instantly remember how unsettling the feeling is. Before I know it, the bed moves back and I'm trying to stay as still as possible as I listen to the subtle whirrs and hums of the device. The process is over quickly and I'm back on the wheelchair. Both of us seemed eager to be done with the simple check and couldn't wait to be on our own again. At least, that was what I believed she was thinking. She looked like she was at the end of a long, overnight shift. 

When I return to my room, the sun is fully lighting the area. The nurse leaves quickly and I'm alone again waiting for news. Waiting for anything. I let my head fall back. I only mean to close my eyes; they were burning. My body had other plans. I fall into a dreamless sleep, well, a nap.

I couldn't remember when I let my eyes rest, but when I opened them, my wrist told me it wasn't long. I wake up and feel more groggy than ever. My eyes still burn behind my head and they water at the excessively increasing amount of sun pouring into the room. My mouth feels salty. An iv is still in my arm, meticulously dripping fluids into my bloodstream. I realize that I do feel better, but my arms still ache. I probably shouldn't be moving at all. I remove any thoughts of doing so, letting my body rest on the bed. To my surprise, the hospital bed was comfortable. It feels like I'm floating.

I let out a hum and take a deep breath in. As if on cue, the door to my room opens. My aunt runs in and grabs my face. She cradles it in her hands as if it were a tiny animal. No words escape her trembling lips as her eyes gloss over with tears. She lets out a choked sob and hugs me. I wince in pain, but she doesn't release her iron grip on my body. It was hard to say anything. I didn't know what should be said. I manage to croak out an "I'm sorry". She looks up at me. She looked too sad to even come off as angry. 

"Thank God, you're okay." she whimpers. 

"I got the call that you were here and I came down as soon as possible. We were worried sick about you. The other day you just disappeared. We saw you go to bed that night, but that morning you were gone. We thought you had gone on another walk. Like the day before," she nods at me as if she wasn't sure if I remembered the first walk in the woods. I didn't remember. Although, it did sound familiar. "We thought you'd be back so we made breakfast. We waited but you never came back." 

With those last words, she broke down in my arms again. I strained my body to hold her back. 

"I can't lose you. That's the one thing I can do for your parents now and I need to stick to it." she choked. 

For a second, I thought that my aunt being disappointed and yelling at me was the worst thing imaginable. I soon learn that the only thing worse than guilt and sheer disgust is hurting someone that's already been knocked to the ground. That in itself brought me a brand new combination of guilt. I've hurt someone who loves me more than anything in the world right now. The only thing she could love more than me is her own son and husband. Even then, I know that right now I am precious to her. I am what her sister has left for her. I am her sister's pride and joy. Her sister carried me in her womb and raised me to be who I am today. If she let me away so soon, it'd mean failure in Lillian's eyes. Maybe even in my mom's eyes. 

It then clicked to me that I am my aunt's greatest fear and simultaneously her newfound pride and joy. She is going to pick up where my parent's left. She is determined to watch me rise to success because my own parents can't. She also plans to protect me with her own life. She thinks my parents want that from her. She thinks it's her final favor as if it's as simple as asking to babysit for the night. 

My face distorts into a frown. She's already gone out of her way. I know she's already done too much. She has her own family to care for, her own child to nurture. Is she giving all of that up for me?


	8. Leaving

My aunt sat next to my hospital bed with an oversized bag and a large insulated water bottle. I never thought she'd be the type to overpack. I wasn’t complaining though. She had good intentions. She brought some things for me as well as herself. It was only a thick book and my phone, but it was plenty to keep me company. With her here though, I would most likely spend quite some time talking about what had happened while I was gone.

We sat in silence after our long embrace. It didn't take long for me to blurt out the question I had been waiting to have answered.

“What happened?” I asked softly. My words sat thick in the hospital room’s air.

“The other day, we all went to bed after dinner. The next morning, when Michael and I woke up, you were gone. We weren’t too worried, but when we knew for a fact that you weren’t in the house we started to panic. You left everything at home. You didn’t even bring your phone, or leave a note, or tell us you that were going out. We knew something had to have been wrong because you were gone for too long. We called the police as soon as we could, but because you’re an adult now they didn’t take our worry seriously. They assumed you ran away,”

“I don't remember anything at all. I don't even remember eating dinner that night,” my voice trembled.

“We’re gonna figure everything out, okay? It’s gonna be alright,” my aunt stared sternly. I nodded in agreement, yet I wasn't confident in her words.

“What’s gonna happen now? I’m–” I struggled to find the right words, “I’m meeting my soulmate soon,”

Her mouth fell slightly agape when my words reached her. She hesitated as if she planned to speak, but she closed her mouth and chose not to say anything. The quiet room made me uncomfortable.

“I don't know,” she responded. I nodded my head again. I didn’t even attempt to hide my disappointment. This past week has been nothing but constant stress and now I’ve found out that I could be seriously ill.

“I’ve been thinking,” my aunt started, “well, Michael and I both have decided that you should go to therapy. You’ll start as soon as you can. We already have a therapist in mind. If you don't like it in a few weeks of starting, you don't have to keep going. We just thought it would help you. He's highly rated, too. I think you’ll like it,”

“Okay,”

Our conversation stopped when a knock came to the door. Results so soon? My aunt perked up at the sound and greeted the doctor that entered the room. He carried a wooden clipboard and walked up to the foot of my bed. He spoke loudly, yet I couldn’t seem to hear what he said. I spaced out.

“There doesn't appear to be any damage,”

“That's good right?” my aunt’s voice piped up. She was hopeful.

“We think your memory loss may have been caused by recent trauma,” I realized that the doctor was speaking directly to me. I nodded by reflex, but I still only partially paid attention as he continued.

“When will she be able to go home?” my aunt asked for me.

“You could bring her home now since she has mostly stabilized. She does have some injuries, but she's being rehydrated and fed and she's reacting well to her treatment. However, we don't suggest moving her so soon. At the very least, we’d like to keep her here for another hour, just to be certain that she's completely stabilized,”

The voice of my aunt and my doctor played like a vinyl; just muffled music from another room. I felt like a child all over again. I had just been able to kick start my independence, yet all of a sudden someone else was speaking for me. I hadn’t even been paying attention to my own doctor.

The man left the room and I was alone again with my aunt. I rubbed my fingers against the thin blanket the hospital had given me and stared at the opaque bruises on my arms. I turned on my side to face my aunt and crumpled the blanket in between my legs.

“Are we going home?” I asked.

“Soon.”

I let my eyes drop slightly as I created a makeshift pillow with my hands. I felt groggy still, but it was nice to be able to relax. Walking from that forest was some of the worst pain I had ever experienced. I was glad that I no longer had to give that effort. I could lay down for as long as I wanted. My aunt brushed a thin piece of my hair behind my ear and moved her warm hand up and down the side of my arm. She squeezed slightly before dropping down to grab her water bottle.

“We have an hour to kill,” I mumbled, “I'll have about three hours then,” she gave me a look and then glanced down to my covered wrist.

“The world isn't on your side is it?”

“I guess not. I don't know that much about fate, though,” I yawned.

“We’ll always be here to help you through this. I can't imagine what pain you're going through right now, hun. They'll be there to help you too. No one gets paired with someone that doesn't care immensely for them,”

“Maybe I'm the exception. The one in a billion who gets stuck with someone who hates them,” I chuckled.

“Things will work out for you. I promise,”

I really did hope that things would work out for me as Lillian said. The world wasn't on my side and it at least owed me one good experience. I wished I could’ve said that I was calm while in that small hospital room, but I was anxious and had a deep sinking feeling in my stomach. If I didn’t have any damage to my brain, what caused that awful amnesia to happen? I remembered that my doctor had said something about trauma, but how is that even possible? It all seemed so random and unexplainable to me. I certainly didn’t anticipate the inevitable tests that I will be put through or the therapy that my aunt intends to attend.

I looked over to my aunt. She had her head in her right hand and her phone in the other. She looked noticeably stressed as she scrolled through something on her screen. I doubted she’d let me out of her sight at this point. I decided to scroll through my phone as well. It had been about a week since I’d last seen or talked to my friends. They were probably worried sick. I opened my phone and was greeted with a stream of notifications, most of which came from Emilia. I never got the chance to fully explain to her what had happened to me. I chose not to because I had planned on telling her in person. Obviously, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. I opened up her messages.

You haven’t been at school whats wrong

Is everything ok

Do you need me to come over

Youre really stressing me out

Please answer your phone Y/N

I clicked on my screen to send her a message but I couldn’t find the words to type. Calling her would’ve been better. I knew the last thing she wanted was a dismissive text. My last text wasn’t any good either. I sighed.

There was an emergency sorry im sorry for not responding

Ill go out with you and explain everything i promise

I set my phone down and laid my head back. I hoped she wasn’t upset with me, but I was sure that once she found everything out she’d understand. I looked down at my wrist. I had only 3 hours left. My eyes burned but I was too tired to cry. I just didn’t feel like it anymore. Instead, I forced myself to turn myself away from my aunt. I stared at the boring hospital walls and listened to the beeps coming from my monitor. I just wanted to go home.

A while later, a nurse came in to give me a final checkup before my aunt took me with her. I had some simple blood tests done and was taken off of my IV. Thankfully, my aunt had brought a spare pair of clothes for me, so I had clean clothes to change into. Both my aunt and the nurse left the room to let me change. I tried to stand while doing so, but my legs were too weak. I had no choice but to sit on the hospital bed while I removed the gown and replaced it with jeans and a sweatshirt. It was significantly warmer than what I had been wearing. I yelled for my aunt. 

"You can come in now!" she opened the door hesitantly. 

"You ready to go?" she asked. My legs were dangling off the edge of the bed. I shook my head 'yes'. 

"It hurts too much to stand. I don't think I can walk to the car," 

Before my aunt could respond, the nurse was at the door again with a wheelchair. She helped me sit down and made sure I didn't fall. Where did the time go? We were leaving already? My hands grasped the plush armrests of the wheelchair. I pushed my hands down, feeling the cushion compress against my touch. 

Once I had all my paperwork done and I was fully discharged from the hospital, my aunt pushed me out of the room and down the wide hallways. I took in one final breath of the clean hospital air before my aunt lead me out the front doors. The temperature instantly chilled around us. My aunt kept pushing me through the parking lot until we reached her car. She pressed the 'unlock' button on her key and opened the passenger door. She put her arms around me like a child and counted down. 

"Three. Two. One," she grunted as she helped pull me from the seat and guide me into the car. It hurt to prop my leg up into the car, but it only lasted for a short moment. When I was fully inside the car, she closed my door and pushed the wheelchair to the trunk. I reached for my seatbelt and fasted it into its buckle, tightening it for good measure. I glanced behind me when the back door opened. My aunt shoved the folded wheelchair into the backseat. It was cramped. 

She entered the driver's seat. "It didn't fit in the trunk," she said. She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The car started with a gentle, smooth purr. It was fairly new or well taken care of, but I didn't know cars enough to notice a difference. We pulled out of the parking space and turned onto the main road. Freedom, finally! I looked at the clock on the dashboard of the car. It's 7 a.m. My aunt pulls into a drive-thru not too far from the hospital. She ordered two large breakfast burritos and handed me one to eat on the ride back. I had finished mine before we reached the woods, so I spent the scenic view occasionally sipping on a cold bottle of water. The trees seemed to go on forever. We passed a sign visible from the road. Written across the top of the sign was "Pineneedle Nature Reserve". It felt vaguely familiar, but the name was pretty generic, so I dismissed it. As we slowly approached the quaint bungalow, tingles ran from my shoulders down my spine. I shrugged my shoulders up to my ears and tried to shake the feeling off. It felt like someone was in the backseat. I could feel a presence. I look behind me. Nothing. 


	9. Uninvited

We pulled onto our stamped concrete driveway. It was angled slightly uphill and was long enough to fit an R.V. My own car was parked next to us—at the top end of the driveway—covered in a thin layer of snow. Someone must have brought it down while I was gone, or maybe before I left. I didn't remember if it was here or not, but that wasn't important. My aunt struggled as she helped me into my wheelchair and pushed me through the front door of the house. When the door opened, a pleasant warm sensation poured over me. The ambiance lighting of the house really did make me feel like I was actually at home again.

However, deep down, I was still panicky about meeting my soulmate. I needed things to go well for me. Just once. My aunt asked if I needed help getting around the house, but I told her I would be okay. She left to take a shower while I took off my shoes and set them by the front door. I wrapped my fingers around the fat wheels on both sides of the wheelchair and pushed myself to my room. The sound of the wheels rolling on the floorboards filled the dimly lit hallways. The door to my room was wide open, but once I entered I closed it behind me. I wheeled myself to the edge of my bed and flopped on, doing my best to pull myself up. When I did, every part of me seemed to sink into the soft mattress and thick comforters. I felt submerged in a sea of cotton, silk, and polyester. 

I flipped myself around to lay on my back. I was propped up against numerous pillows that lined the bed's tall headboard. My laptop was beside me. I grabbed it and settled it on my lap. I held the edge of the screen and pried it up from the keyboard, adjusting it to prevent the sun from creating a glare. I pressed a thin button to turn it on and typed in my password. My computer was a year or two old, but it had still worked well. It didn't take long for it to start up, and once I felt that it had completely loaded all of its applications, I clicked open google. I sat for a few minutes, staring at the blank white tab while moving my mouse in wide circles as I thought of what to do to pass my time. I wasn't in the mood for social media. Suddenly, it came to me.

I clicked onto the search bar and typed in 'causes of amnesia'. 

While in the hospital, I hadn't paid enough attention to my doctor to know if he had explained what amnesia was and how it can be caused. I didn't even speak to him. I looked through the recommended result pages and scrolled through the first page of websites listed and read their short descriptions. _Dementia. Anoxia. Stroke. Alcohol abuse. Head injuries. Extended periods of stress._ I'm stuck in my own monologue reassuring myself. "This isn't bad. You do not have this. The doctors are wrong. Misdiagnosis happens all of the time. He said there is no damage, so you are okay." 

I scanned through some of the more trustable websites; briefly reading the information listed. Maybe I could find a way to remember? I had seen things like that happen all the time in movies and t.v. shows. I took my time going through page after page, switching through various tabs. I couldn't help but believe that I didn't have this _disorder_ or _disease_. Whatever it was. There was no possible way, I must have just been tired. Frustrated, I closed all of the tabs and turned off the computer. I didn't want to deal with anything that _might_ pertain to my health: mental or physical. 

I peeked down at my wrist, soft light and bold numbers looked back at me from the screen. I could feel my heart as it dropped to my stomach. I somehow had only an hour left. My stomach fluttered intensely and rapidly, making me feel sick. The sensation of my heart pulsating in my chest was so palpable, that it seemed to actually be bursting as it hit my ribs and sternum. I could feel my heart palpitate as it tried its best to properly pump blood and oxygen throughout my body. I could feel its skipped beats in my throat as if the flickering had decided to rise up to start suffocating me. I started to feel a sharp pain in my head. It was probably best for me to stay away from electronics.

I grabbed the handle of a drawer connected to the end table next to me. I hurled it open and placed my laptop inside. I slammed it shut and it closed with a click. I rolled off of my back and repositioned myself in the plethora of blankets. I now laid prone on the bed and let my head sink into an oversized pillow. I closed my eyes and my world went dark. It was somehow peaceful to shut everything out for once. I laid there that morning with my jeans on and a hospital band still wrapped around my wrist. I would've changed into a pair of sweats as soon as I got home, but I didn't even have the strength to stand. I decided I just didn't feel like it, especially now that my face was fully shoved into a pillow.

Bright beams of sunlight shone through the window. I couldn't bring myself to fall asleep, no matter how drained I was. Instead, I just tried my best to calm down. In hindsight, I probably should've done something to distract myself. Literally, anything would've been better than sitting in my own thoughts. In fact, doing so made time move by excruciatingly slowly. I spread out the wrinkles on the pillowcase under me with my hand, taking in the smooth texture. A sharp pain continued to throb in my head. I moved my hands behind my head and shielded the light in my room from reaching me. Pushing my head further into the pillow, all I could see was darkness. A wet droplet slid down the tip of my nose. I smeared my hand from my mouth upwards and removed it from my face. However, more droplets continued to fall. I groaned and sat up.

The vibrant color of the pillowcase was stained red as blood started to fall from my nose. I cupped my hand up to my face and a steady stream pooled into my palm. I sat up completely as I scanned the room. There were no tissues nearby for me to catch the blood. 

I shuffled my body to drop my legs over the side of the bed. I used my other had to pull my wheelchair closer. Getting onto the chair wasn't hard, but I easily became frustrated when I started to move out of the room. Wheelchairs were hard to control with one hand.

I took too long to make it to the door. By the time I had my left hand on the doorknob, the blood from my nose was slipping between my fingers and running down my hand. I didn't like the thought of getting blood on any surface of the house. All the furniture, walls, and floors were clean and well-kept. 

I pulled the door open as far as I could, but my wheelchair blocked the door from fully opening. While holding my free hand on the chair's armrest, I raised my left leg up and pressed it against the door frame. I shoved on it to push myself back and kicked my right leg forward to slam the door open. I started to wheel myself out into the hallway, struggling to turn around the corridor that headed to the bathroom. 

"Aunt Lillian!" I yelled out. She couldn't be in the shower still could she? Thankfully, the bathroom door was open. I used its door frame like the one in my room to push me farther. I pulled out a thick wad of toilet paper and held it under my nose. I laid my head on the counter top and put my bloodied hand in the sink. The position I was in gave me an up-close view of the timer ticking down on my wrist. _I had exactly 45 minutes left._ I didn't know whether or not to be thankful for being able to burn time by laying on my bed. Nevertheless, I was struck with nervousness all over again. Only this time, I was bleeding for no reason. 

I sighed as I waited for my nose to stop bleeding. I heard footsteps come from down the hall. 

"Is everything okay?" I heard my aunt say. 

"I don't know," I murmured. She walked up to me. I could feel her hand against my back. She gasped. 

"I was just sitting there in bed when it happened." she turned on the sink. I fixed my posture so that I was sitting up. I took the tissue away from my face. The bleeding had stopped. I threw the tissue into the waste bin in the bathroom and put my hands under the sink. The blood was half-clotted on my skin, turning the blood drops on my hand into a squishy texture and causing the bright red color to darken. My aunt put some soap into my hand and I started scrubbing my hands. She left to go somewhere else in the house. 

After all of the blood had finally been removed, I washed my face to clean off my nose and take off the blood trail that fell down to my chin. Once I had finished, I stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn't very presentable. Dark bags hung under my eyes and I looked pale and sickly. My skin was slightly blemished near my cheekbones. I decided to do anything I could do to make my hair look better, so I put it into simple braids. It definitely helped, but I still wasn't confident. 

I looked at my wrist again. _30 minutes_. My head still ached. I turned myself around and rolled into the living room area. 

"Auntie, where do you keep the Tylenol?" I yelled out for her. Her response came from the back of the house.

"It's in the kitchen cabinet next to the patio door," her voice was muffled and distant. I pushed myself into the kitchen and stared up at the patio door. I hope she didn't mean the top cupboard, but when I looked into the bottom cupboards it was mostly Tupperware and bowls. I slowly stood up and leaned against the kitchen counter. It kept me pretty steady and thankfully I was able to shift my weight onto it. I grabbed the Tylenol, closed the cupboard, and sat down. I decided to take the entire bottle with me. Aunt Lillian would understand. 

I took a water bottle from the fridge and headed to my room again. Since leaving the hospital, I had quickly discovered that my current mortal enemy was closed doors and high objects. Hopefully, I would be better in a day or two. I made sure to keep my door open this time as I stayed seated in my wheelchair. I opened the pill bottle and shook one out. I closed it and threw it onto my bed. I placed the pill in my mouth and held it in between my lips. I used both of my hands to break the seal on the water bottle and twist the cap off. I washed the pill down with gulps of cold water. I moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, I looked out at my aunt and uncle's backyard. Being in a smaller neighborhood, the houses were far apart. There was no fence or barrier separating their property from the lines of trees.

What did people do while they waited to meet their soulmate? Being in a wheelchair, I felt like even if I knew I wouldn't have much of an option. I sat there and stared out as I watched the trees sway slightly in the wind. Somewhere in between them, my imagination created figures. Everywhere I looked I could easily point out where it looked like there was a leg or a long arm. They were all far too still to be an actual person. though. I squinted. My headache hadn't subsided yet. 

I'm set into a coughing fit. The only thing in my mind (besides what's about to happen in less than an hour) is how badly I don't want to be sick. The feeling of an upcoming cold made me feel 100 times more miserable than I needed to be. 

"Did you find it?" my aunt walked into my room. I turned around to face her. 

"Yeah," she walked over and sat on the edge of my bed. 

"Are you doing alright, sweetie," 

"Uh, yeah. I'm doing okay." 

"How much time do you have left?" she asked me. I turned my wrist toward my face. 

"20 minutes, -ish." 

"Do you want to go outside?" 

"No, I'm fine. I'm still gonna end up meeting the same person anyway, aren't I?" 

"We'll never know." 

We sat together in the quiet room, listening to the wind sway in the trees outside, just loud enough for us to hear it from inside the house. 

"What do you want them to be like, above everything else? If you could choose?" my aunt asks. I thought about it. 

"I dunno. I think as long as they're a person I'll be fine. I'll inevitably love them anyway, right?"

"Yeah." 

"I just don't know what to think right now, I guess. Time's moving too fast but too slow at the same time. I want everything to be over with; ripped off like a bandaid. But I believe I've been told to savor the moment before." 

"That's the beauty of it all," she says, "the agony, the anxiety." I avoided looking at my aunt. I didn't feel like being looked at. 

"Let me guess: 'Your world will change. It'll feel like you're finally seeing in color'. Why do soulmates have to exist? We would surely live without one." I glanced over. It seemed like my aunt was avoiding being looked at too. I looked back down at my lap where my free wrist held the one that would determine my fate.

God, I sound like a character from _Romeo and Juliet,_ just waiting for my "star-crossed lover" to appear and sweep me off my feet. Anyone would be able to look at me and know that I would give up this soulmate just to get my old life back. "Eternal happiness" given away for the people who showed me what eternal happiness was. That's a perfectly fine trade to me. Maybe if I started praying God would've considered. 

**5 minutes?** Now I was supposed to believe in a match made in heaven _and_ that I'd been wallowing in my own self-pity for 15 minutes. All I could do was hope that my aunt was right; that the agony was worth it. All just part of the journey. When did she become so poetic?

I started to tap lightly on the armrest of the wheelchair. It felt like it made the time pass by a little faster. 

**4 minutes.**

I partially expected my aunt to have left by now. I was sure that if I'd just asked she'd be fine with it, but is it rude to kick your closest family out like that? I probably would've let my mom stay with me when I finally met my soulmate. 

**3 minutes.**

What was I even supposed to say? Are you even expected to say anything at all when you meet the future love-of-your-life? Your future bride or groom. Was I supposed to stare at them? Say some witty remark about their looks, talk about a book or movie they might like? I really should've paid more attention to our health classes. I'm sure they gave me--and hundreds of other 15-year olds--detailed accounts of how soulmates meet. 

**2 minutes**. 

What if they're awful? Would I even recognize that, or would I be forced to know that they are a horrible human being, but get punished by being in love with them? Being embarrassingly in love with them: "give up my own morals" in love with them.

**1 minute.**

60 seconds till my inevitable doom. I looked towards my aunt, but she left. Where did she go? Suddenly, I regretted wanting her to leave me. _Why did she just leave?_ She could've just waited a few seconds. Just ten seconds.

A soft beep came from my wrist. A crash came from the kitchen, followed by a thud. The sound so similar to broken glass hitting the floor. I turned my head away from the window towards my propped open door, then down at my wrist.

**00:00:00.**

In unison, all zeros blinked. I heard soft talking coming from outside of my room. Quickly, it turned into a panicked voice. High pitched and out of breath. _Crescendo_. 

"Wha- what are you doing? Is that--why do you have-" my aunt's voice reverberated down the hallway. So did her shrill scream and (what I presumed to be) her body as it was shoved against the wall. I didn't hear much speaking after that. 

As calmly as I could, I slid from the wheelchair I was sitting on and crawled under my bed. The blankets on it fell down the sides, encasing the space underneath in darkness. I felt safe there. No matter how much my heart throbbed or how much I wanted to cry. "Just breathe," I told myself. 

I heard the faintest sound of footsteps enter the room. If my increasingly loud breathing didn't give me away, my heartbeat did. The only thing I could see in the pitch black was the continuous flashing on my wrist, reminding me **00:00:00.** I felt shaky and dizzy. I felt like I was dying. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"If they see that you're hiding, they'll be sure to make things _much_ more painful than you could ever imagine. And we wouldn't want that, would we? So why don't you step out? Unless you want me to force you out from under there. Trust me. We wouldn't want that." 


	10. Boy and Breath

"If they see that you're hiding, they'll be sure to make things _much_ more painful than you could ever imagine. And we wouldn't want that, would we? So why don't you step out? Unless you want me to force you out from under there. Trust me. We wouldn't want that." 

* * *

I practically shiver as I sit under the bed. The pain in my temples is sharp and continuous and beating like a drum. I try my best not to make any noises, but I can't stop my body from shaking. How does he know I'm here? _Why_ is he here? This entire situation makes no sense to me. 

I hear his footsteps come closer to the bed. They are much heavier than before; clearly exaggerated. At this point, there's nowhere I can hide. Running is not an option. I take deep breaths and try to calm myself down. Instead, my breathing gets sharp and jagged. Before I know it, fingers are wrapped around my ankle. His crushing grip is most definitely going to leave bruises. With a yank, my feet are pulled from under the bed. My hands palm at the hardwood floor below me. My mind is racing, searching for something to grab onto. The sound of my palms squeaking along the floor makes my entire body cringe.

With another big yank, I am fully picked out from under the bed. I somehow don't scream while looking at the man. He is hunched over me and has let go of my leg. I try to scan his face. Goggles. A mask. Am I being robbed? Behind his covered face, I can't help but sense that he is smirking at me. Smiling at my pure shock and terror. _Everything feels wrong._ I scan his wrists, searching for the tell-tale sign of a timer or anything that can tell me that this isn't true, but he is wearing long sleeves. _Damn._ I can't see a thing.

Whoever the man is, he notices that I'm staring daggers at his wrists. He leans in. We both look at mine.

"Looking for something?" He practically whispers to me, breathing into my ear. I hear faint yelling coming from another part of the house. He grabs my hand and lifts up my sleeve. My countdown has stopped flashing, but it still displays zeros on its screen. Now he knows. For a split second, he moves his attention away from me. My heart is beating vigorously. I'm ripped from the ground and I crash straight into him. His body radiates heat. The thought makes me sick. I don't want this to be my soulmate. His hands seize my shoulders and he rushes me out the door of my room. 

"Stop!" I cry out, trying to keep myself from being forced out. I struggle against him, but my body still aches from the past few days. He's much stronger than I am. Strong enough to convince me that if I were healthy, I still wouldn't be putting up much of a fight. He ignores me and continues to drag me out of my room. In the hallway, aunt Lillian is laying on the floor. She looks unharmed, but I can't be sure. She's unconscious. 

He brings me to the front entrance of my aunt's house. Standing there are two others who have completely hidden their appearance. I can't see their faces, their body shapes, I can't see anything that would help me distinct them from any other person, other than their masks and the brown hair growing from the heads of two of them. The third wore a hood. 

When the man behind me lets go, I collapse to the floor in pain. I have never felt more worthless. 

"Toby, what's this?" One of them asks. They both seem slightly annoyed. Toby must be the one who brought me here.

"It looks like someone found her soulmate." 

A man in a white mask squats down beside me. He is the tallest of all three of them and even while squatting his form seems to loom over me. I avoid looking at him as he stares at my panting form. 

"Is it true, sunshine? Your time's run out?" he asks me. Even if I wanted to, I knew I wouldn't be able to bring myself to speak up. 

"Well? Speak up?" His tone of voice sharpens. He grabs me by my shirt, pulling me closer. All I can do is nod in agreement. 

I hear the hooded man mumble. "You fucking kidding me?" He sighs and pushes himself off of the wall he's leaning on. "Which one of you is it?" He asks the other two. He closes in on the group, "Both of you know very well how this sort of thing turns out."

"Awww, come on. We could use some... excitement." 

"She'll just hold us back. You know what you need to do, don't disappoint me." He walks away toward my aunt's room. I'm left alone with the other men. I'm lightly kicked. 

"Get up." I look at the masked man. Again, I'm pulled from the ground. I'm brought to the kitchen alone with him. He shoves an empty backpack into my hands. 

"FIll it." He turns to the living room to grab his own bag and sets it on the dining room table as he continues to scavenge the rest of the house. He doesn't go too far, keeping me in his line of sight. I don't know how much these men will appreciate Oreos or Cheerios, so I head to the pantry. Reluctantly, I grab canned foods, dry pasta noodles, and bags of rice and shove them into the backpack. I walk to the dining room and place the full bag onto the table next to the other one. The masked man walks up to me. He opens the bag and rummages through its contents. 

"You're not as worthless as I'd thought. Maybe I will keep you around." He approaches me and makes me face him. "Let me see." He demands. 

He asks me to show him my wrist, but he picks up my hand and moves my sleeves up himself anyway. His eyes scan my wrist for too long. 

"So he wasn't lying." He mutters. He picks up both bags and walks toward the front door. I feel like I have no choice but to follow him. These men suddenly seem to be more than thieves. He sets the backpacks at the front door. An arm wraps around my shoulder as the masked man forces me back to my room. Something feels off about his suddenly calm behavior. 

We enter the room. The wheelchair is exactly where I had left it and sunlight continues to pour into the room. The man walks up to my nightstand and grabs the picture frame of me and my family. I jump when I hear him chuckle. "You know," he spoke in a rough, husky voice, "I haven't seen a single picture of you in this house. Care to tell me why?" He sets the picture down and turns to face me. 

"I uh-," I clear my raspy throat, "I just moved in," I spoke softly, but my voice sounded loud in the near empty room. 

"Roommates with a family of three? Doesn't make much sense to me, sunshine." 

"I'm their niece."

"Think they'll miss you? Wanna find out?" He hums.

"No." 

"Too bad. You listen to us now, or there _will_ be consequences. Understand? You don't have a choice anymore. You've gotten too close, now your life will never be the same." He puts his hand around my neck. Not enough to hurt me, it was barely any pressure, but enough to intimidate me, I suppose. He lightly traces his thumb across it. It repulses me. His hand falls from me and he leaves the room. The door slams shut.

What now? Which of the men even is my soulmate? I hadn't thought of that earlier. The first interaction with my soulmate could've been whoever physically broke into the house, not my first face to face interaction with the person who pulled me from under my bed. It could be any one of them! The hooded man seemed insistent that it was one of the others, but what if he is a liar, just trying to hide the truth of meeting your soulmate under such conditions. Just trying to avoid the embarrassment and shame that comes from breaking into your soulmate's home. 

It could easily be the hooded man in denial, the masked man who seemed arrogant, or the boy with the goggles (and occasional twitching) that seemed too happy with the overall situation. It could be any of them. In fact, I don't even know how close the men are. They act more like rivals than close friends in cahoots, like competitors forced to work toward a common goal. I'm not even sure if they would be that intimate with each other; sharing the status of their timers. Hell, they covered nearly every inch of their bodies, they seem mostly reserved from other people. Or maybe it's just because they've already committed burglary: assault and theft. I plop onto my mattress and sit facing the door. What happens now? 

\- - -

It felt like days later when I heard anything from outside my room. I think what the man meant by leaving me unattended is that he wanted me to stay put, so I didn't attempt to leave the house or the room. I don't want to know the harm that the men are willing to do, so I obeyed, like a dog. Whether they are still in the house or not is a mystery to me. Maybe they disbanded when the masked man slammed the bedroom door, maybe they left a few minutes ago; certainly, they are meticulous about their anonymity. 

What I can hear now is a soft tapping noise. Rapid, but soft. On the walls, possibly, but the distinct sound is clear in my ears. I **am** hearing it. Scanning the walls of the room, I can't tell exactly where the tapping comes from. I stand up and pain courses through my body. I amble to the door of the room. It is still shut, exactly as he left it. My hand wraps around the ice-cold doorknob as I settle my ear against the wood. The tapping sounds louder here. Hesitant, I twist the knob and give the door a gentle pull. It swings open and creaks with the movement. I pop my head out and peek down the left side of the hall. Nothing. 

The tapping has stopped dead in its repetitive tracks. I step out of the doorframe and turn to look right. I jump back slightly. I'm inches away from someone's chest. My head starts to scan up. The masked man is still here? 

Blood trickles from my nose. Wiping the liquid off of my face, I try not to break eye contact, but it doesn't matter, someone comes up from behind me. I'm hit on the head with something heavy and I blackout. Semi-conscious for a few seconds, but quickly succumbing to quiet contentment, I am finally at rest again. 


	11. Hello, Detective

"Get up (y/n)! Get up now!" My aunt yells. She's kneeling over my body and shaking me violently. My head is throbbing and as I fade into consciousness. The pressure is unbearable. 

"What's happening. What happened." I manage to mutter to her. 

"Someone broke in." She grabs out her phone. My burning eyes deem the room too bright, I can barely even keep them open. To my dismay, I'm forced to squeeze them shut. All I can hear is my aunt's panic.

"I need you to get up okay? I don't think it's safe to be here right now." She tells me. 

"My head. God." I can't bring myself to sit up. I try to think back to before I lost consciousness. There was a break in, they rummaged our house, they knocked us unconscious, and one of them is my soulmate. 

"(y/n)!" Lillian's pure fear continues to get more and more intense every second. I hear her making a phone call to the police. I blink my eyes open vigorously. They burn a little less now, and my head no longer hurts as much, but the exhaustion from the entire situation is still very much present, the pain still hurts, the disappointment still lingers. 

I remain laying on the floor, in hopes of avoiding nauseousness. I should probably wait to get up. To my surprise, I'm not as panicked as I expected to be in this sort of situation. Maybe it is just the overwhelming amount of exhaustion, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm going numb. 

I assume that the dispatcher Lillian is talking to refuses to let her disconnect from the phone call, so I try to wait for the police to come before I stress Lillian anymore about my current situation. However, as I lay helpless and unable to move, involuntary tears start to trickle down my face and dampen the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Everything hurts more than I can imagine, but it almost feels like nothing. My aunt crawls up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. 

"Sweetie, are you okay?" She whispers. I don't nod. I don't respond. I just sit and wait. 

\- - - 

Police had arrived fairly quickly accompanied by a paramedic. I was assessed for a concussion and other injuries, but I was luckily okay. In fact, the paramedic was surprised that I was practically uninjured except for some bruising and scrapes, yet I was informed that signs of a concussion may show up later and I should watch out for them. My aunt and I were escorted outside. She was standing on the sidewalk with a police officer, giving out information about anything she could. After the paramedic finished checking for my injuries, he left me alone. Now I sit with my legs dangling off the back of the ambulance and a shock blanket wrapped around me. 

Granted, the slight weight of the blanket is comforting, all I want to do is sleep. From the looks of it, it is still morning time. With my best guess, I would say it is possibly 10 or 11 a.m.

There's not much to do when sitting in the back of an ambulance, especially when waiting for the police to conclude an investigation. I scan the scenery around me. The surrounding woods are as thick and simple as I remember and the coat of snow covering the forest floor has melted into slush and puddles. With a wince, I pull my knees up to my chest, in an attempt to gather more warmth, and wrap the shock blanket fully around my body. I curl into myself. Why must these sort of things take so long? 

An officer walks up to me. I look up at him. 

"Good morning. My name is Peter Nicholson and I am a detective working on your case. We believe the men who broke into your house may be related to other crimes in this area. We would like to bring you back to the station to ask you some questions if you would be willing to do so. Your aunt has agreed to come along as well, so you won't have to go down all alone. I understand how you may be tense from everything that's happened." 

Guessing that I didn't have much of a choice, I gave the man a small nod and stepped down from the ambulance, leaving the blanket behind me. A cold chill instantly blew over me as my shoes landed on the slippery floor with a soft crunch. I follow the detective over to my aunt, who is still speaking with one of the police officers at the scene. As we approach the two, their conversation comes to an abrupt end. Turning over to me and the detective, she gives me a nervous, yet relieved look. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a tight hug. 

"Is it time to go, detective?" She asked. 

"Yes, now would be a great time. The team searching your house will take good care of it while you are gone, I can promise you that." He shared a smile with my aunt and she tells him a short thank you before we leave. 

Together, my aunt and I walk up the driveway. The sharp pain in my body has mostly subsided and now is nothing more than achy muscles. At the very most, my sore body was uncomfortable. It didn't make much sense to me though. Surely, I shouldn't have recovered this much so quickly, but I can't complain. I won't have to use that dreaded wheelchair anymore.

I open the passenger side door and plop down onto the seats. Lillian turns her car on as I secure my seat belt across my chest. We pull away from the cop-filled driveway and trail behind another car. 

Throughout the drive, my aunt and I don't talk much. There were a few attempts, but I mostly don't feel like speaking: not about what happened, not about the weather, and certainly not any lighthearted banter about one of the "cute" officers. Whether it was aunt Lillian's poor attempt at cheering me up or her attempt at relieving tension, I am not down for it. Every day of my life since my parents died has been an absolute shitshow. Aunt Lillian can't fix that. 

I turn away from my aunt to look out the car window. The trees here weren't particularly thick, yet the sheer amount of them made it nearly impossible to get a clear view a foot into the forest. Especially due to their luscious leaves. Nonetheless, I couldn't stop myself from seeing figures between the branches and bushes. The thought of what lurks in the woods that I now live in makes a chill run down my spine. Even more so, the thought of what could be hidden in the vast amount of space that the forest covers. 

I try my best to shrug the thoughts out of my mind as we leave the dense woods and enter the city. It's the same one that I was brought to on my very recent hospital visit. I am still not familiar with its streets, but at least I vaguely know where I am now. I don't know how close we are to the police department (or wherever the detective is taking us), but my stomach still fills with anxiety. Thinking back, I hadn't told anyone that one of the men is my soulmate. I don't know if aunt Lillian did either. What would that mean for me? Even just thinking about it, I get flustered. Maybe if I talked to them I would find out that they're not so bad of a person?

I sigh and let my head fall against the cold door window. We're turning into the parking lot of some sort of government building. _Ugh_. 

We roll into one of the parking spaces and lurch forward with a smooth stop. The soft purr of the engine shuts off. 

"You don't have to tell them you know. Only if you want to." Lillian says as she opens her door. I follow suit and exit the car. I hear the doors lock behind us as we both follow the detective to the front door.

Once we all entered the building, a blast of warmth blew over us. On the inside, the building seemed fairly small. As we were escorted through the building, the tiled floor amplified the sounds of our steps. Eventually, my aunt and I were placed in separate rooms. The room was empty, except for a table and a few chairs.

“Miss (l/n) please take a seat. I’ll be in shortly to speak with you.” Detective Nicholson says before leaving the room. He shuts the door and my aunt goes with him (to what I assume is) another room in the building. It doesn’t take long for him to return. In fact, I had probably only been sitting on one of the uncomfortable metal chairs for a few minutes.

He starts speaking as soon as he enters the room.

“As a part of your questioning, we will need to document your responses. I need your consent to let us record the audio of our session since it is not required that you be here today,” he pulls out a form and slides a pen over to me, “Signing this form states that you fully consent to the complete documentation of our investigation.” With no hesitation, I sign the provided papers. 

"Great. We'll be starting now." With the click of a button, he turns on a handheld device. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I assume it's being used to record the session. 

"Miss (y/n) on the morning of Wednesday, November 26th your house had been broken into correct?" 

"Yes." 

"Can you tell me everything you remember from the experience?" He asks. 

"Yeah. Well, they broke in through the kitchen door. They shattered the glass to get in. They..." I hesitated, searching for the right words, "knocked her unconscious, my aunt Lillian. They didn't do the same to me immediately. One of the men, he forced me to help them. He made me grab food from the kitchen and put it in backpacks." 

"Can you explain to me how the man made you help? Did he threaten you with a weapon or in any other way?" I give myself a moment to think about what he had asked. I can't feel anything but shame. I don't recall seeing any sort of weapon on the men and that makes me feel so pathetic and weak and helpless. 

"I didn't see any weapon," 

"Okay. There were three men correct? Can you describe what they looked like?" 

I explain in detail the appearances of the men and their masks. I try my best to include as much as I can, but my explanation never feels complete because of my choice to hide the truth. 

"All right Miss (y/n). Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened? Any motivation, any odd behavior?" Anxiety sits in my stomach. I settle with the reality that I won't speak about soulmates. If I were to tell the police, I would've needed to say _everything_ as soon as possible. I've clearly taken this lie too far. If I tell them now, they will lose their trust in me. Hell, they'll probably think that I was trying to protect my soulmate: a criminal. They'll think I'm a liar. 

"I think that's it," I say abruptly. 

"Okay then. Thank you so much for your time Miss (y/n). I think this will really help our investigation." 

Mr. Nicholson walks me out of the room and to the front of the building. At the front desk, my aunt waits for me. 

"You ready to go?" She asks me. I give her a confused look.

"Where to exactly?" 

"The house is still being investigated. I've been told that it might be a day or two till we can go back because they really need any sort of evidence they can get on these men. We'll be staying at a hotel till then. We need to get our rooms booked before Johnathan and Michael get done at the school." 

"Oh. Well then, yeah I guess I don't have much of a choice." 

Before leaving the office, we give our thanks to the officers around us. Once we do eventually exit the building and get buckled into our seats I feel slightly relieved. **I made it,** I think to myself. **They'll never need to know**.


	12. Capture

The past 2 days have been pretty quiet and passed by without a problem. My only concern is a slight pain on my back near my right shoulder blade. I've been through numerous checkups throughout the week, so I know it's nothing serious. Though, sometimes the pain switches from soreness into an intense burning sensation. While I've tried to justify the pain, I tend to just dismiss it and hope that things get better, yet it's a pain I've never experienced. Some days, it's fucking unbearable agony and others, nothing. 

I'd hate to stress my aunt and uncle with another hospital visit, but with this pain, it seems impossible not to consider one. I'm scared that if I continue going at this rate, they'll have no choice but to make me pay for the expenses. That wouldn't be a problem if I had a job. Currently, I don't. I haven't even gone to school in ages and winter break is right around the corner. 

I like to ignore those thoughts though (exams and all) and try to focus on what's been happening. So far, we've slept at a decent hotel right at the edge of the forest. The place is home to tons of foot traffic and tourism which can be stressful. That's why Lillian has gone even more out of her way to keep us all happy. She convinced Johnathan that we're on vacation. Everyone's decided that he should out of school until things completely clear up. It's just easier that way. 

I've spent most of my free time in the bustling hotel lobby. I keep finding myself hoping that I can spot one of the men from the break-in. I'm not sure what my genuine motives are yet, but I like to tell myself that it's because I want to get them turned in. Not because one of them is most definitely my soulmate. Although I can't deny that my soulmate intrigues me, they still committed a crime. The investigation is still ongoing after hours of work, which makes me wonder what they did. How did they get so many investigators out after them?

I'm not a professional or anything. I couldn't possibly know what an investigation should look like or how it operates. Then again, how it's gone makes me know that something is wrong. There has been very little communication between my family and the officer. The entire case has been very secretive. The officers told us a thing or two about the trespassers, yet none of us know how dangerous they could be. 

This is why, right now, I'm alone in the hotel lobby. Some investigator at the house gave me permission to retrieve my phone and my laptop from my room. I've been on them ever since, scrolling through digital piles of information. Since most activities here are commercial, there isn't much to do. Especially when I don't have excess amounts of money to spend. Despite this, Michael insists on letting me have a little bit of spending money. He doesn't want me getting too worked up about the break-in. As we all know, this results in selfishly splurging on an $8 cup of coffee. 

With both my laptop, phone and a far-from-complimentary cup of coffee, I have no choice but to sleuth myself. I don't even know if Michael _knows_ that one of the men is my soulmate, but how could he _not know?_ He knew how close I was and he doesn't seem like the person you could convince to lie to the police about something. I don't even know if Lillian could lie to Michael about that. If she did, she'd put her entire marriage in jeopardy, so I doubt it's kept as a complete secret.

I'm honestly surprised that even I decided to lie to the detective. Likewise, I have no way to know if Michael would cover for me as Lillian did. I've always been much closer to Lillian. I'm pretty much her daughter at this point. I can already tell she'd carry the world for me. Michael, not so much. 

It's not that Michael doesn't love me, I'm still his niece. We share a different connection. In a good way.

With a sigh, I take a sip from my coffee and scan the area past a glass barrier. Through the flow of people moving in and out, I try to scan the passing faces.

Turning back to my laptop I resume browsing some news articles. I'm trying to look at every report I can. Those that details crimes that have happened in the past few months and even some from last year. If I can't find anything I'll look at some mugshots too. I'm not exactly sure yet. Anything that can give me a lead with what I know, which keep in mind is very little.

The questioning with the detective from the other day hadn't gone too far in depth. I didn't get the chance to learn much from him, but I know that these men most likely committed a very serious crime. Wouldn't it be beneficial and safer if the officers showed me a picture of the suspects? That way we'd know who to look out for? I feel like something far more sinister is going on and that they're trying to prevent panic. Moreover, mass panic. If the situation happened to slip it'd spread like wildfire.

All these thoughts could be me being paranoid but it's the only logical conclusion I can come to. Everything seems too thorough. Plus, I don't remember seeing any of the men take any _real_ valuables as a thief would. They took resources that are helpful if they are trying to go from place to place. If they wanted, they could live off of that food for _weeks_. 

I skip through article after article, but the area seems to be void of major crimes. There are a few homicides. Strange for the most part, yet, there are quite a few missing persons. I scroll through a website with the goal of spreading awareness for the missing in my city. The more I scroll, the more I am convinced that the list never ends. Every name on the list goes as follows: 

**Last name, first name age date missing**

About 60% of the names listed include a parenthesis at the end that states whether the case is solved or not. Looking through the list is more than unsettling. When I finally reach the bottom, the date is 1934.

I click on a few of the solved cases. All seem to be completely random people who disappeared with no explainable reason. Most were later found in the forested area of the state, like the woods near Lillian's house. Those found alive were taken to hospitals but died from serious injuries. I close my tabs and shut the lid of the laptop. This can't be it. There has to be something else I'm looking for. I decide to take a break and continue drinking my coffee while watching the passerby. 

I go 15 minutes without incident until I spot commotion at the front desk. A lady who I can hardly spot from my seat looks uncomfortable. At this point, I have finished the entire cup, so I tip and leave the cafe. I don't know if I should go to the front desk, stay where I am, or go back to my room. As a last minute decision, I pick up my laptop and shove my phone into my back pocket. With my eyes focused on the tense corner of the room, I saunter over towards the front desk. 

I stop so that I'm standing roughly in the middle of the lobby entrance with a lean toward the front desk. From this close, I can see the sheer fear on the face of the receptionists as she turns and walks to the back with care. Whatever is happening, she's calm but isn't good at hiding that she's tense. My eyes dart around. There are three receptionists checking in guests. I can see the lady shuffle through something and look at the room cards on the wall behind her. 

I try and take a closer look at the man who spoke with the clerk. I can't see his entire face from this angle, but it looks like he is trying to hide something in his jacket. I take in his appearance just in case. 

I scan the entire lobby without turning my body from the front desk, everyone seems to be minding their own business. Completely none the wiser. Then I look at the front door. My heart is suddenly pounding, but I am frozen in place. A man walks in, his hood pulled up and eyes dark and sullen, a mask covering the lower half of his face. For a brief moment, we make eye contact and I immediately recognize him. At least I'm 80% sure it's him. He's still decently far away, but he seems to be around the same height as the intruder who pulled me out from under the bed and has the exact same hair color and texture. Plus, his mouth cover is quite distinct and I don't think that it's just something you'd have laying around. 

I quickly avert my gaze back at the desk. The lady is talking to the man again and she's shaking her head. At this point, tears are falling down her face and the man slams his fist on the marble counter. With haste, I turn on my heel towards the elevators. I need to get to my room now. I have no time to look back as I casually rush through groups of people, trying not to push or shove. I'm somewhere between walking and awkwardly jogging as I mutter multiple "excuse me's". 

As I turn around a corner, I'm stopped by a large group of people waiting to get to their rooms. Fuck. I hope I can get into one in time. I peak around the corner towards the lobby and front entrance. He's following me. Definitely. I hear a tiny "ding" and look over, one of the elevators just opened but it's too late. The small space is completely filled before I can even make it to the door. 

I have no choice. I have to get as far away as possible. That seems like the best option for me right now. I exit the side room with the elevators. The man and I are now heading in the same direction, but I still have the chance to lose him. I glance behind me. He's only a few feet away at this point. 

I keep walking and will myself to look forward and avoid glancing back. I know he's close on my trail, so I take as many twists and turns as I can. Not too far from where I am, I can see a glowing red exit sign. Perfect. I speed up, push open the door and step into the snow-covered pavement. I immediately continue walking but as I pace myself down the side of the hotel I run straight into somebody. Of course, the impact and slight shock cause me to jolt out a small and embarrassing "oop". I look up with flushed cheeks. 

"I'm sorry!" I say. I share eye contact with the man in front of me, then excuse myself to walk around him. I _need_ to lose the guy behind me, but I'm interrupted. The man I bump into stops me and shoves me back. I'm confused. I look up at him again with a stern look on my face. 

"Hey! I need to get through." I shout at him. He has a semi-sadistic smirk on his face before he speaks. 

"You're not going that way right now. You have other places to be right now." 

I stop completely. I shut down. I know that voice. I know this person, too. The exit door slams open behind me. Shit. This walkway is very remote. I won't be getting any help. Someone chuckles from behind me. I know it's him. I look at my feet. I'm 70% sure I pissed myself a little. A strong hand slams on my shoulder and I'm wincing in pain. They have one hell of a grip. The back of my shoulder is burning and I'm suddenly feeling agony and shame worse than I've ever felt. I wrap my hands on his hand, trying helplessly to get him to let go. He coos. 

"You're so affectionate. Didn't think I'd ever be in a relationship with a soft type. Hmmm," he leans into my left ear sending shivers down my spine, "I guess I do love the innocence. You'll just be soooo easyyy to **break**." 

"Hey hey. Easy now. We need her in one piece, Toby." 

"Yeah, whatever." 

Toby pulls me against his chest. Something sharp is poking at my back. 

"Don't do anything stupid now." He says. I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. He uses his other hand to guide me forward. They're taking me to the parking lot. 


	13. Choke

Walking with a knife pressed against your back isn't comfortable at all. In fact, it's so galling, I'm surprised that no one has stopped us for my facial expression alone. As we walk through the parking lot, we stay spaced a few feet away from each other, rather than in a crowd. The concrete building is lit up with cheap, dim lights, making it almost impossible to see. Especially in the slight winter fog.

Toby walks right behind me, almost flush against my back. With his position, he has no problem holding the knife to me. Great. 

It's only us three. I should be able to outrun them and get away, but the only thing stopping me is the man behind me. I don't know much about his strength, but he pulled me out from under my bed without breaking a sweat. With a crushing grip too. If I tried to escape, I don't know if I'd be able to pull it off. Would he hesitate before stabbing me in the back if I even flinched?

All I can hear in the empty car park are the sounds of our footsteps. Every now and then, I can make out the muffled echoes of people talking. The man in front of me comes to an abrupt stop at the end of the car park. He leans against the trunk of an old car and wraps his arms around himself and looks back at us. Toby stops moving and I follow suit with dubious consent. A hand falls on my right shoulder. I look over, startled. It's the knife he'd been holding and now it's pushed against my neck. His unoccupied hand gropes around my behind and grabs hold of my cellphone, pulling it out of my back pocket. I make eye contact with the man in front of me. 

"Give it to me." He stretches his arm out to me, referring to my laptop in my hands. He doesn't force or threaten me. Deciding to keep it that way, I pass it over to him. 

"When's Masky getting over here?" Toby asks. His abrupt words jolt me.

"Soon," The other man moves positions and opens the car's trunk, "But we shouldn't waste any time. We need to get out of the open." 

Thinking back to that night, I can only assume that Masky is the third man from the break-in. That must be a code name or something. 

I glance over to the trunk and scan its contents: a duffle bag and an old metal baseball bat lay next to each other. The man opens one of the bag's side pockets and pulls out a black ski mask with bright red markings. He shoves it into his hoodie pocket. I can start to piece together who the man in front of me is. With the yellow hoodie and mask, I know that this is the man who didn't talk much during the break-in. He seemed disappointed in the other two when he found out I had met my soulmate that day. What kind of idiot must he be to kidnap me without anything covering his face? Even his partner in crime knows to do that. 

"Are you just gonna keep staring at me like that? Keep it up and I'll make sure to break your wrists." 

Warmth concentrates in my cheeks and I avert my eyes to my feet. My face reddens with embarrassment and fear, I am not surprised by the outcome of his words. A chuckle resonates through the car park; its source from Toby. I cross my arms over my chest and a shiver runs down my spine. Would he actually do something like that? Every second I spend around these people, the more I am convinced that they are completely insane.

"Ugh. Finally." Toby mumbles. The knife leaves my neck and his hands push me towards the car doors. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and throat, fluttering and skipping, shaking my body as I'm forced forward. Pressed flat against Toby, I attempt to resist getting forced into the car, but he is too strong to fight. Even though I stopped Toby for a second or two, all he had to do is give a harsh shove to my back for me to stumble forward and fall onto the frozen concrete, successfully knocking the wind out of my body and scraping the skin on my hands and knees. Laying stomach down on the floor I struggle to take breaths in. Toby steps to my side and rips me up from the parking lot floor. 

Still unable to breathe, he opens the backseat door. We both nose-dive onto the leather seats and the door closes after us. I regain the ability to take deep breaths, but I am constricted. Toby is laying on top of me with almost all his weight and both of his hands find their way to my neck. We barely fit together on the tiny seats, but it doesn't stop him at all. He takes the knife and prods the flesh where my jaw and ear connect. I choke out pathetic gurgles as he pins me down with his thumb, middle, and forefinger pushing in the sides of my jaw, like squishing a bug in between his fingers. My hands wrap around his bruised wrist and I wordlessly plead for release. 

My face turns a shade of blue before he removes the pressure. With a firm grasp, his hand still lingers on my neck, but I can finally take in painful gulps of air. Toby leans in and brings his mouth right beside my ear. 

"Now now, I thought you weren't going to be fighting back. You sure are full of surprises, aren't you?" He giggles. "If you plan on living, you need to be quiet. No running either. I won't hesitate to slit your pretty little neck. Got it?" I nod my head, tears stinging my eyes. "Good." 

His thumb strokes up and down my throat. He keeps his guard up while he removes the knife and places it on the floor, waiting to see if I act up. His free hand reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out my phone and shoves it into my hand. 

"Turn it on for me." 

I scramble to unlock my phone, punching in the sequence of digits as I tremble. Once unlocked, I am greeted by my home screen and a few messages from my aunt. I don't get to read them. As soon as Toby sees the lock screen open, he speaks up and presses down on my neck once again. 

"Take the password off." 

I do what he says and open my phone settings, deleting the password. He takes my phone away from me and puts it back into his pocket. He leans away from me and looks out the back window of the car. Heavy weight makes the car lower down and the sound of the trunk closing is heard from inside. Finally, Toby's hands leave my neck and reach into the front seat. He opens the glove box and pulls out a rope. His legs are still straddling me, so I can barely move or sit up.

The rope is bright red in color and crudely cut at the ends. He pulls me up by the front of my sweatshirt and sits facing me. He fastens the rope around my hands with haste and ties it together into a tight knot. It's scratchy in texture and the pressure on my wrists irritates my skin. 

"Sit back." He says. He grabs hold of the back of my sweatshirt, right at the collar, and pulls on it.

Two figures walk around the side of the car and enter, filling the driver and passenger seats. The immediate silence is crushing. The "third" man (who Toby called Masky earlier) looks back from the passenger seat. I recognize his jacket and realize that he is the same man that I saw in the hotel lobby. Goose flesh covers my arms. What was he planning in there?

Masky seems to notice my shock when I look at him. He starts laughing; voice raspy and harsh. 

"Huh, you that surprised? Unbelievable." 

"Where are you taking me," I ask, trying my best to sound unafraid. 

"Where ever we need you to be." The hooded man responds. 

"Why would you even need me. I have no idea who you are. Why are you doing this to me and my family?"

"I think you know exactly why we're here." Toby chuckles. His grip on my collar is still firm even though he's sitting forward, legs spread out and twitching to himself. Every time he does, I flinch at the sudden movement. He finds it hilarious.

"I'm sure Hoodie would love to explain all the trouble you put us through if you're still so confused."

The hooded man- or "Hoodie"- starts the car and pulls out of the parking spot. I clench my hands around the fabric of my jeans by my thighs, pulling at loose strings and running my fingernails over worn down patches. I take deep, shaky breaths, but it doesn't prevent tears from rolling down my cheeks. 

I examine the two men in front of me. I can't see them well, but looking at the sides of their faces is enough for me to know that I feel nothing for them. Shifting my eyes to the left of me I glance at Toby. I don't want him to know that I'm staring, so the best I can do is stare at his legs. His jeans look old and worn and his leg is bouncing up and down as if he were anxious. 

"What an obedient little thing you've got." I hear Masky mumble from the front seat.

\---

We drive all the way to the forested area that my aunt lives in, which only took us 15 minutes. For the past hour though, Hoodie has weaved his way down steep, curvy roadways surrounded by pine and fir trees. Not too long ago, he turned into a dirt single lane pathway leading straight into the depths of the woods. My tied hands are trembling and my right shoulder blade burns. It's constant stinging feels like a fresh cut. I turn my head to look at Toby's arm. Did he cut me? I don't remember when the stinging started, but surely I'd remember if Toby did cut me. I lean my head back on the seat behind me, but Toby is still holding me by my collar, so I end up awkwardly resting my head against his calloused hand. 

I am repulsed at the thought of any more interaction with him and immediately sit forward again. He takes notice of my movement and my tear-stained face. The grip on my collar tightens. Suddenly, the car rolls to a stop on the side of the dirt path. 

"Pretty much out of gas. We'll have to walk the rest of the way." The hooded man turns the car off and exits, leaving the keys in the ignition. 

"Alright." Toby starts. His voice is giddy with excitement. The car door pops open and he pulls on my sweatshirt. He yanks hard, but I don't go far. "Awww. Am I gonna have to carry you?" 

Toby grabs my leg and drags me out of the backseat. He picks me up by wrapping his arms around my stomach and hoisting me over his shoulder. The force of my own weight digs him into my stomach, turning the position painful. It makes it difficult to breathe properly. I let out a grunt at the feeling. My shirt rides slightly up my back, letting the frosty air prick at my exposed skin. 

"I can walk on my own." I huff out. 

Masky appears behind Toby. I crane my head up to make uncomfortable eye contact with him. He has a mask covering his face now. The same one from the break-in. Even though Toby is tall, Masky is many inches taller than the young boy. It forces him to look down at me if he wants to look at my face. Masky's hand comes to caress my cheek. 

"We can't trust you yet. So you'll have to deal with it until we break you in." He laughs. 

"I- I'm not a fucking dog!" 

"Well, you sure are flushed about it. Does that excite you? Being treated like a helpless little animal." Masky's voice drips pure venom. The resulting anger causes me to grit my teeth together. These people are disgusting. 

Hoodie walks up beside Masky with the duffle bag and baseball bat in hand. 

"Let's go. We're wasting daylight. I want to spend the least amount of time outside with this brat." He says. 

"How long do you expect me to be like this!?" I pipe in. Any longer and I'm certain I'll pass out. Or at least have a nasty mark on my stomach. 

"Well," Hoodie continues, handing the bat to Masky, "I can always knock you unconscious. I'm sure we're all in favor of it. Your pathetic whining is irritating me." 

His words quickly silence me. Who even are these people? 

"I'll do the honor." I hear the words come from Toby's mouth and before I know it we turn to face Masky and Hoodie. He shoves me into Hoodie's arms and the last things I see is Toby standing in front of me, reeling his arm back before he smacks me across my face. I'm to shocked to stop any of it from happening and being held in Hoodie's arms completely restricts any of my upper body movement. 

My world is dark and numb and pressure tightens in my head. I am barely conscious. On the verge of letting go, I think of aunt Lillian. She's gonna be so scared. She's gonna be terrified. Why am I letting them get away?


	14. Hatchet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT!!: My new story has finally been posted! Check it out!
> 
> TLDR: This book is currently on hiatus, but I am working on a separate book that will be updated while I work on this one. 
> 
> It's been a really, really long time and for that, I apologize! There are many reasons why I haven't been updating, but to keep it short and simple, I ended up getting really busy. Unfortunately, that means that I've had somewhat of a falling out with this story. Not being in the habit of writing for it has made it far too difficult to do. However, I have had a lot of time to think about somethings that I want to do and I honestly do want to write again. 
> 
> First and foremost: while I was gone I actually have gotten tons of new readers and followers and I'd like to say thank you. It means a lot to me. For those of you that really enjoy this story, don't worry. I do plan on continuing! I hadn't planned this story out much so I am having a hard time progressing but I'll figure it out somehow. It just wouldn't be fair for me to rush it. 
> 
> That brings me to my second point, I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. This is why (while I was gone) I started planning out some ideas 1) in an attempt to help me track the progression of this story and 2) because I don't want to starve you guys of content anymore. I do technically have a little one-shot thing that I've worked on a little bit, but I think this will be another good way for me to work on some stuff because not everyone enjoys one-shots. 
> 
> Some good things about this? This story is from almost a completely different perspective as this current one. I don't know if it will be some form of soulmate au, though if that's what's suggested, I have no problem with that at all. The main character (you!) is a lot older than in this story. Their age will not be set, only suggested as they are not a high school student but instead some type of investigator! I've read a lot recently and I have tons of ideas in general on how I want my story progression to go and I really do hope it becomes an improvement compared to this story. 
> 
> Anyway, I think that about covers it for now. As always, if there are any questions or concerns about this story, the new story I am suggesting, or anything else just shoot me some in the comments. I do feel bad about ghosting you all for a couple of months so... I'll respond. If you guys have any suggestions for this new story that you haven't seen before (with some limits of course), really enjoy reading, or just really want to see, let me know and I'll consider it.

Where the hell am I? 

It takes a second to fully adjust to my surroundings, but that's mostly because my eyes are covered by a thick cloth. My hands are tied tightly behind my back and I'm propped up against something. I brush my fingers against the floor under me. Cold concrete. It isn't too terribly (definitely not cold enough to be outside in the snow), yet wherever I am it's too cold to be a livable space. Which begs the question. Where have those fuckers brought me? 

I have almost no idea who these people could be, I only have reasonable guesses based on what they have done to me. That makes it very difficult to pinpoint where I am. Although I have one given weakness: the soulmate bond. 

Sure it isn't a solid promise for protection, but overall harming your soulmate in any way is pretty uncommon. Killing them? Now that's practically unheard of. It just isn't a thing. I don't think that my soulmate plans to let that happen anyway, though I'm not sure what their intentions are. I know for sure that these people are unable to be loved by me.

I can't focus on that right now, though. I need to find a way to get out of here. Or at least get this blindfold off. 

No matter what position I move into, I can't get my hands close enough to my face. I need to find another way to knock the blindfold off. I try for a minute or two to shrug my shoulders and "push" at the blindfold with the rubbing, but I soon give up. The cloth material is knotted so tight that I need to have the use of my fingers to do anything. Dammit. 

I hear a deep creak above me. Someone's upstairs. I must be in a house. I listen intently to whatever I can make out above me, my breathing gets shallow. A lot of walking around is happening and it sounds like more than one person is responsible. The distinct sound of a door unlocking enters my available senses. I tense up. Dark thoughts of what could happen bounce around in my mind. Oh, God. This is where I die. I can't help but think about it. I can't help but imagine it in all the violent ways it could happen. Shivers trickle up and down my spine. 

My throat tightens and it's as if I'm back in the car being choked all over again. 

My panicking is short lived, ending as soon as the door slams open and shut. I feel like a deer stuck in headlights: I can't move, I can't breathe, and I can't see anything at all. Heavy steps slowly tread down an old staircase, almost mockingly. My legs involuntarily shake in fear. Why am I so terrified? I'm going to be fine. I'll be okay. 

The footsteps gradually get closer. I feel tugging on the blindfold and it is slipped down to rest around my neck like a scarf. 

The basement is completely dark except for a tiny lamp hanging from the concrete ceiling. The entire room is concrete: ceiling, walls, and floor. Being underground is probably why it's so cold. The dingy room is mostly empty save for a square table with some chairs around it. There are patches of old blood stained into the floor, varying in color from a deep red to a rusty brown. Then there's the last thing in the room. Him. I have no choice but to look at them. Hesitantly, I make eye contact with the man in front of me. It's a masked man. Out of everyone, I'm least excited to be face to face with him. Sure, Toby did choke me out, but "Masky" seems to have... a particularly intense personality. He isn't afraid to be vicious. In fact, he likes it. 

Definitely the most sadistic so far. His words have hit me far more than anything Toby has done. I'm not entirely sure why. There's something wrong about him, though. For sure. Maybe he seems kinda, unrestrained in a way? The horror he brought into the clerk's eyes at the hotel, it's so vile. She really seemed to fear for her life at that moment. All I know is, I hate him. I definitely hate him. Just like I hate the other two.

Behind his ugly mask, I can tell a smirk is plastered on his face. He speaks as if I have a choice. We both know I don't. 

"Listen here - and I want you to listen carefully. We have some questions for you. If you answer them, I can guarantee you, you'll live. Hell! We may even give you a nice little space to keep your things." He chuckles and grabs my face. I try to turn away, but there's nowhere to go. "You just need to be on your best behavior. Understand?" I get no time to answer.

"Good."

He takes out a switchblade. With no hesitation, he cuts me from what I was tied to. They must have used multiple pieces of rope because even though I'm free from the death trap, my hands are still bound together behind my back. He leads me over to the table and shoves me into one of the chairs. Surprisingly, he turns and heads back up the stairs. He must be getting the other two. 

As soon as the door closes, I'm left with a dilemma. Do I try and escape, or do I stay put and wait things out? To put it bluntly, I'm not in a good situation right now. My hands are tied behind my back, I have no weapon except for some chairs, and the only escape route is up. I don't even know if there is a guaranteed way out. 

Picking my battles, I know that it's best to wait things out. While I highly doubt it, Masky seems to be offering me some sort of life with his friends. I'd never accept it, but maybe if I play along to that point I can sneak out or something? Build up their trust into thinking I'm some obedient thing and then escape once the time feels right. That seems most reasonable right now. I already fucked up by letting them take me to a second location. According to statistics: I should be dead right now. Actually, the likelihood of me not being dead by the end of this is... unfortunate. We're going to pretend like I haven't fucked myself over on this one. 

So now I get to wait. Yes, actually wait like the dog I want them to think I am and pray that I'm playing my cards right. 

I'm not left in the basement for long. It takes only a few minutes for Masky to bring the others in. The atmosphere inside is tense as the three men walk down the stairs. No one speaks. I stare at their feet and watch them come closer and closer, as if the sound of their shoes are the ticks of a clock, counting down to my death. Do all three of them really have to be here for this? 

Masky and Toby sit down next to me, while Hoodie walks up to a nearby wall and leans against it. They're all facing me. My hands are still positioned behind my back. Being so defenseless makes me more than uncomfortable, but I don't dare ask any of them if they can cut the ropes. I fear being ridiculed for even thinking they'd let me do that. 

"Well you've had a tough day haven't you?" Hoodie is the first to speak, his arms crossed over his chest, "I'm glad to see that you've calmed down some, too." His head is leaning back, touching the wall. He seems undisturbed by everything that's happened. Looking around the room, he is probably the least tense of everyone. 

With my eyes focused on him, his hand disappears into his hoodie pocket. With a gloved hand, he pulls out a solid black pistol. He fiddles with it in both of his hands, tracing over the bumps of the gun. I remain non-vocal throughout his showcase of the weapon. I think the get my message–I definitely get theirs–I don't want any trouble. Hoodie lets his hands return to their original position, this time with violent accessory. 

"You know [y/n], I'd hate to have to use something like this." Hoodie looks up at me, "You do know, right? It'd be such a shame for you to die like that. I always hated being a homewrecker." He shrugs, smug. 

"A job is a job." He states. 

I look down and avoid all eye contact. I want to fold in on myself. If I had the chance, I'd choose to disappear completely. 

"You wouldn't even get the chance to know him. Appreciate him. How selfish would that be?" 

I continue to look down at the table, my hands secure behind me. If I tried, I wouldn't be able to convince myself to make words fall out of my mouth, even if they were a simple lie. 

"Why have you been in the forest [y/n]? We've been watching you lately and you just can't seem to get away from it." Masky suddenly asks.

"What are you talking about? I live in it. I have to go in it often." I reply in a meek voice.

"No no," Masky chuckles, "Your little... research. Care to explain what you're looking for, sweetheart?"

My confusion must show on my face, because Masky starts to chuckle. 

I stutter slightly, "What are you talking about?" I stay insistent on my last response. There's no way these guys know that something strange has been happening here, too. My aunt doesn't even seem to know about the crimes that happen here. No one does. No one ever has.

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. How much do you know about this place?" He raises his voice, slamming his hand down on the table.

"I know about the murders that's been going on, that's it!" I blurt out the truth, shocked by his sudden anger. 

A loud sigh comes from Hoodie. He pushes off the wall and walks towards the one empty seat. My heart had already been racing, but now it feels like I just might go into cardiac arrest. He pulls out the wooden chair and sits down. I'm now surrounded by them on all sides except for behind me. What is all of this about? Why do these people even care? 

"Your 'amnesia'. Tell me what you know about that." Hoodie asks, nonchalant. 

Okay, now something's really up. Being able to look through my search history is one thing, but knowing my medical history? My gut wrenches. These guys must have been watching me for quite some time. There's no other way to know this much about me. I'm completely speechless. 

"I asked you a question, [y/n]." 

"I was gone for a few days, I don't remember it or why, and then I had to go to a hospital. I don't know much about it and I don't know what's wrong with me." 

"Is that the worst that happened?" I gave him a nod, "Interesting." 

The hooded man leans back on his chair and sets his feet on the table. Everyone else in the room seems to relax a bit more at his simple action. 

"Is she marked?" he asks.

"Yeah," Toby mutters. It's the first he has spoken since before I was knocked out. 

Marked? 

"On her shoulder." Toby continues, "It's new, too. And deep." 

"Recent? Makes sense." Hoodie says. 

The men around me stand up. They don't bother to push in their chairs. Hoodie leaves almost immediately, followed by Masky. Toby looks at me with a gleam in his eyes. I have so many questions about everything that just happened, but when I go to ask, Toby has already left the cellar. 

I have no idea how our conversation managed to answer anything for them, but they seemed fairly satisfied with my reply. If I did manage to do something, it makes no sense. Marked on my shoulder? I think back to the pain I've had the past few days, could that be it? 

I dismiss the thought quickly at the realization that they just left. What do I do? I want to stick to my plan, but what am I supposed to expect? They left with no word. They could be gone for a few minutes, or they could be gone for days-leaving me to rot here. I lift my knees up and slip my hands in front of me. The bright red rope Toby tied is still tight and thick around my hands. My wrists are pink and bloody from near-constant chafing. Seeing the rope burn brings a slight stinging pain to my attention. I need to get these off. 

I scan the room a second time. It doesn't change much. The room still contains nothing that I can use for self-defense and absolutely nothing sharp. I look over to where I was tied up earlier. It looks to be old piping, one pole is broken off. There is a chance that it could be pointy enough to get this rope off. 

With hesitance, I stand from my chair and rush over. The pipe is pretty rusted, but it's worth a shot to get these things off of me. I'm gentle with my actions, aware of the possibility of cutting myself.

I place the rope against the pole and start to move my hands back and forth. Little umber pieces of the pole flake off. I continue the motion for a few more seconds before pulling back. The rope is frayed and torn slightly. It's perfect. I walk back over to the chair and sit with my hands cradled in my lap. 

It's uncomfortable, but if I twist my wrists I can pick at the ripped strings. If anyone comes down those stairs, I might be able to play things off as if nothing happened. Alternatively, I could leave the rope be if I can loosen the pressure rubbing on my skin enough. That should work for now. 

I spend the next few minutes picking red strands from the rope. Eventually, the whole thing goes slack and slides apart. Okay, I can work with this. I'll figure it out somehow. I hear creaking from up the stairs and all I can do is scold myself for how stupid I am. Of course, they'd come back once I got the rope off. 

Even though I expect it, I'm caught off guard when Toby enters the room. He's alone and he shows this by closing the door behind him. I panic and put my hands behind my back. I don't think he notices as he walks to the table. A hatchet in hand. 

"Guess what? I'm here to babysit you!" He jerks his head back in one fast, harsh movement. It looked painful.

He embeds the hatchet into the table and sits down across from me. The force causes part of the table to crack. I jump up and let out an audible gasp. He chuckles at this. 

I should try to play along. Try and get him talking. Maybe he'll spill something? 

"Why would you need to do that?" I ask in a soft tone. He leans closer putting his head in his hands. 

"Well, we can't just have you all free-reign, can we? Besides, there are things in these woods that want you dead and nobody's allowed to cut up your pretty little self. Except for me, maybe . But I dunno, think I'm gonna keep ya!" 

What he says creeps me out, yet I press on.

"Who out there wants to hurt me?" It's not exactly what I'd expected, but this is exactly the stuff I need to know. Especially if I'm going to try to escape this hell. 

"More like what. I don't even think some of them are considered human anymore." My face turns pale at Toby's words. He laughs. "Oh, don't worry, kitten. They're just jealous of what we have. They'll get over it once we have things in order."

My expression is blank. Is Toby my soulmate? Is that what's he talking about? Why would anyone be jealous of us anyway? I take a deep breath in and unclench my fists. Toby and I are locking eyes. His brown ones have dark bags under them and while I expect them to have a dead expression, they almost seem bright and joyous, in a way. 

"Well, where did the other two go?" I ask.

"Oh! Them? Hmm. Nowhere important." 

I mouth an "oh" and shift my eyes away from him. I try not to make too much eye contact with Toby. I'm scared of his reaction to it, as I'm still not entirely sure what Toby is like.

There are a few minutes of silence; I twiddle my thumbs in anticipation. That hatchet is sharp and I keep finding myself staring at it and taking in all its details. Eventually, my eyes start to unfocus and all of my motions stop, intensifying the thick stillness in the room. Abruptly, Toby speaks and strokes the handle of the hatchet with his thumbs. 

"Do you like it?" 

It takes me a solid second or two to snap out of my mindless state. Behind the mouth guard Toby wears, I swear there's a cocky smile. 

"It does a really good job." he continues. With one swift movement, Toby pries the hatchet from the table. It looked like it took nearly no effort for him at all. He holds the hatchet up. The blade is shiny, almost new. He positions it in front of his face and turns the weapon slightly, letting the blade catch the light over and over again. "Here," he holds the hatchet out to me, "Why don't you get a feel for it, huh?"

My brow furrows and I open my mouth. I never find the words to say. Toby leans in.

"I know you got that rope off, so why don't you put your hands here on the table?" his hand finds its way to my face and his thumb prods at my bottom lip. I take a deep shaky breath and cautiously lay my freed palms flat on the table. Toby pries them from the wooden surface and faces them upward. He then places the hatchet in both of my hands and wraps my fingers around the hatchet's grip. 

Adrenaline is shooting through my body in uneven pulses. My legs, stomach, and jaw are clenched and my teeth are grinding together. My knuckles are turning different colors from my further tightening hold on the hatchet. Tense, my body starts shaking slightly. I look up and lock eyes with Toby. He's leaned back in his chair. His eyes look straight through me, like there isn't a person sitting right in front of him.

I think for a moment while Toby stares at me. Here I am–hatchet in hand–and face to face with one of my kidnappers, who is potentially my soulmate. Why he'd give me a leg up in this situation is beyond me, but should I waste an opportunity like this? As long as I can hit him hard enough, I can escape. If the other two are really gone, I can run. I'll be able to go home and once I get to my aunt, I'll tell her to leave this fucking city. We'll be safe as long as we get as far away from here as possible and I'll get the cops on these sick bastards. 

I stare down at my hands again; my trembling fingers and my sweaty palms. It is decided.


End file.
